


Harry Potter and the Quadwizards’ Contrived Quandaries

by SazzyLJ



Series: Cascades of Change [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexuality, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 96,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25206712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SazzyLJ/pseuds/SazzyLJ
Summary: To the Wizarding World, Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass have a fairy tale romance; Sirius Black is dangerous criminal; and Hogwarts is the safest place on earth. Reality is very different.The Tournament is ramping up, and secrets are getting harder to keep from each other and the world. As if our teens don't have enough to worry about, evil lurks in the shadows around them.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Daphne Greengrass
Series: Cascades of Change [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664503
Comments: 79
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

On New Year’s Day, Diagon Alley crowds pressed into Flourish & Blotts, eager to buy their copy of the Triwizard Compendium. Rita Skeeter sneered at The Daily Prophet’s receptionist as she cooed over the photos in the large glossy book. _As if anyone in that book or anywhere cares for her opinion._

She stormed into her editor’s office to find him entertaining the Minister himself. She made sure to simper for Fudge and promised to be in her office, “Just whenever you get done. And Minister Fudge, please remember that you promised me an interview. I’m eager to discuss the recent accomplishments of your administration.”

The idiotic politician did not even wait for the door to close before muttering, “I prefer to wait till I have a target to aim you at.”

 _Obviously he underestimates my hearing as much as he does my readership!_ She growled to herself on her way back to her office but closed the door quietly and cast a silencing spell. It would not do for the Prophet’s lesser reporters to see her rattled. _Those little rats would do anything to get my job._

She pulled the Triwizard Compendium from her Black Infinity Bag and flipped it open to the first section. She snorted derisively at the sight of full pages devoted to Delacour and Diggory. _As if anyone but their grandmothers care._

It was when she turned to the full page on Harry Potter that she felt her anger boil. “Nothing! Not a single a word I’ve written about that boy was optioned for this! This bland outline will appeal to no one!” Despite her anger, she devoured the whole page. 

When she flicked her gaze over the collage of photos, she sneered at the brown eyes that looked out at her. Someone named Creevey had caught a candid shot of Harry with his friends, _that_ _mudblood_ _bitch and his little weaselly traitor,_ as they sat laughing in the Gryffindor common room. She enjoyed her moment of vindictive glee as she remembered some of the things Ron Weasley had said before the first task. _Serves the recalcitrant little twerp right to have a best friend that turned on him so fast._ A part of her considered skipping over her plan for a meatier followup to the half-giant professor in favor of stirring up a little conflict in her next article.

Her door opened to reveal her editor looking impatient. “Rita,” he began before even closing the door. “I have had five meetings and appointments with Minister Fudge cancel, and you interrupted the time I actually managed to get.”

She hid her anger and insecurity behind condescension. “Now Martin, how long can it actually take to remind the man of the meaning behind exclusive reporting privilege?”

“It was not the definition that he struggled with, Rita. It was the fact that Ludo Bagman did not have the right or authority to make that promise.” He sighed tiredly and slumped into the chair across from her desk. “You might pull the strings a little harder on that particular puppet next time. Seems he didn’t follow through on getting Crouch to make the whole thing official.”

She bit back a snarl of anger and leaned back in her chair to think. “I suppose that the only other way to keep this book from spoiling our coverage is to slow the revision schedule… Mortimer Paige is an old friend. He should be able to arrange it.”

When Martin shook his head, she felt the unfamiliar sensation of facing someone that knew something she did not. “Mortimer Paige is retiring from Arbour Green. Hector Herald has already taken over day to day editorial duties.”

She gave him a saccharine sweet smile. “What are you suggesting, Martin? That we sit back and share the eyes of the wizarding world with some spoiled girl’s vanity project?”

“I am suggesting,” he answered slowly, cautiously. “that we use the daily nature of our paper to provide timely and pertinent coverage of the Tournament and spend more efforts on the investigative journalism that you excel at. The minister has been very pleased with your series on Dumbledore’s staffing missteps. He will be willing to offer you an exclusive on the ministerial audit when he calls for it.”

She frowned at that. Him negotiating the exclusive for her meant that it would go into the Prophet first rather than her book. “Now, Martin, I can manage that with Fudge when the time comes. No need for you get involved.”

He gave her a shrewd look. “We’ve known each other too long and too well for that game, Rita. Fudge wants it in the Prophet standing on it’s own, not buried in the back of your book among every other scandal you’ve dug up.”

When she only pursed her lips and drummed her nails against her desk, he continued. “Another thing… Randolph Spudmore came around to see me yesterday. Firebolt Broom Company has optioned Bozo’s photographs of Potter in the First Task for their advertising and arranged a deal with Potter Holdings to use it in their advertisements. Any negative or potentially harmful coverage of Potter had better be Goblin Forged because they’ll pull all advertisements from the paper.”

“Anything else?” she hissed.

“Yes,” he replied despite her displeasure. “the Potter Holdings business manager, an old Goblin with a stern reputation, wrote a letter informing me that Heir Potter’s reputation was now a source of profit to Potter Holdings and would be defended as such.”

She dug her nails into her palms, “Now, is that all, Martin?”

“Two of the Prophet’s founding houses have gone to the board to express displeasure with the quality and content of our reporting. Barnabus Cuffe is leaning heavily on me to bring you into line.” He leaned back. His posture indicated that he was waiting for her to blow up, and she did not disappoint.

“You’re coming to me,” she pointed to herself, “Me! with tales of advertiser threats and stake holder complaints?” She stood to lean forward across her desk. “That is what you are for, Martin! I keep your secrets and write you stories that the wizarding world devours, and now I begin to wonder why! Surely you are getting the better end of this deal!”

Her temper and veiled threats failed to rattle him. “Rita… the problem with threatening me so often with the same secrets… well, you can only reveal them once.”

“Would you like me to do it right now?” she struggled to maintain her control in the face of his newly grown backbone.

“I’m not canceling our deal, Rita, only reminding you that there is only so much leverage you have.” His tone was patient and almost as friendly as it had been when he was lead reporter, and she was his protege. The reminder of friendlier times shook her even more.

“Some men find life unlivable after their secrets are brought to light,” she whispered.

He leaned forward and settled a warm hand on hers. “I’m not your father, Rita. I think I can survive my shames coming out.” He sat back suddenly, and her blackmailed editor replaced her old mentor. “Of course, I would prefer that not happen so, for now, focus on the staffing scandals you’ve turned up at Hogwarts. The mixed breed reveal on the Care of Magical Creatures professor was excellent stuff. Our readers devoured it! Keep that coming, and I’ll work on calming the board and Cuffe.”

She met his eyes, unwilling to admit that this conversation unsettled her. “I’ve a few interesting points on the half-giant’s credentials.” She pulled the duplicate she made of the official NEWT records. “Not only did he never pass his Care NEWT, he never even took it.” Duplicates of the Hogwarts student rolls from 1942, 1943, and 1944 came next. “Seems he left school in his third year. I withheld this from the first article in hopes of uncovering why.”

His slow predatory smile took her back to the days when they were a team. “Maybe a few careful speculations in your next article will dig up a bit more?”

They spent several more moments considering ways to get more information and get the most from what she had already turned up. She knew the camaraderie between them would be fleeting, but she allowed herself a moment to enjoy not being alone.

* * *

The warm rich drink coated Harry’s tongue like melting Honeyduke’s chocolate. He took another sip and surveyed the common room. _Getting pretty crowded in here… I guess the last snowball fights are done now._ Sunset drove the last of his fellow Gryffindors inside, but it was the promise of treats from Hermione’s favorite elf that brought them back to the common room.

Some made excuses about changing from their outdoor gear, but others simply snagged a mug of cocoa and settled in at the fire. Winky’s presence among them was no longer rare or notable. She came to visit Hermione most evenings and brought treats every time.

“Never tell my mum,” Ron started as he set up the chess board, “but Winky’s cocoa and snacks are the best I’ve ever had.”

Harry grinned at him. “Why on earth would I ever tell your mom anything that would get us less food and doting at your house? I may not be top in our year, but that would be stupidity.”

Ron magnanimously gave him the first move, but he knew that would not change the outcome of their game. “She does make the best soups and stews though. I’d be tempted to see if Dobby could talk her out of a few recipes so that we could get them more often.”

As usual, Harry paid more attention to their conversation than the game. He responded to his friend’s first move with the half hearted shift of a random pawn. “That’s a good idea, Ron! Whenever Dobby gets freed up from whatever Dumbledore has him so busy with, we can ask if he’ll do that.”

His friend frowned quizzically at the board, and he felt pleased to realize that his move had thrown his strategy. “Do you think that any of the other houses get special treatment from the school elves?”

“Not from what Daphne says,” he replied. Deciding to at least try and give Ron a challenge at the match, he moved to take a pawn. “Seems that Dobby and Winky are the only ones that really have friends in the student body.” He looked over to where Winky and Hermione were teaching several third years to knit. “Although, I think Winky spends so much time in here because she likes the younger kids almost as much as she likes us.”

“Yeah, she dotes on all the little kids for sure.” He fell silent to let him decide between moving his knight or his bishop. “Harry, mate,” Ron’s hesitant tone put him on guard. “You and Daphne seem pretty serious… do you think you’re doing the right thing courting the first girl you’ve ever kissed?”

He froze at the question and tried to think of any way to change the subject. His friend took in his silence and backtracked a bit. “I’m not saying anything against Daphne. She might be bloody scary, but I’ve got a lot of respect for anyone that protective of their family.” Harry lost a pawn as Ron stumbled along with what he wanted to say. “I just wonder if you realized how much more gossip you were going to start with that fancy stationary set. If Skeeter hadn’t been so set on ruining Hagrid, it probably would have made the Prophet!”

The mention of the Prophet’s star reporter set his teeth on edge. “I’d have been glad of it if it gave Hagrid a break! Anyway, I’m done making decisions based on who might spread what rumor. People have never needed an excuse to think the worst of me anyway.” His anger led him to aggressively threaten Ron’s rook.

His friend was silent a moment as Harry’s knight battled and lost at the next move. “I get that, mate, I really do,” he assured him, “but maybe slow it down a bit? I admit it’s amazing to have a pretty girl willing to give you a few kisses, but…” He trailed off a moment as though a thought occurred to him. When he leaned forward in an obvious attempt to keep from being overheard, Harry wanted to bury his head in his hands. “That is all you’ve done, right? You would tell me if you got further?”

His exasperation with his own secrets and his friend’s persistence burst forth. “Bloody hell, Ron,” he ground out. “You’re the one always telling me how scary Daphne is and now you’re trying to get me to kiss and tell!”

Both boys became aware that they were attracting attention and settled back in their seats. They played silently for a few minutes as Harry considered the difficulty of his secrets. _I can only go on so long with this whole ‘no kiss and tell’ thing before it gets odd. I don’t know what else to do… it’s not like I can tell them that Daphne and I aren’t really together, and I’ve never kissed anyone._

The loss of his bishop gave Harry an idea for a change in topic. “Ron, does the wizarding world have professional chess?”

“What?” his friend scoffed. “Who’d want to pay to watch some other bloke play chess?”

He shrugged and hid his relief to be on safer conversational ground. “Muggles do it, I saw it on the telly once before my uncle flipped the channel.”

“That’s crazy,” he thought a moment. “Maybe if you only saw a little it wasn’t really something professional.” Ron scanned the room and called out. “Colin! Do muggles really have professional chess matches?”

The younger boy dragged over a chair to join them. “Yeah, Ron! There’s even a World Chess Championship that people compete to be able to enter. The people that win get called Grandmaster!” He looked a little sheepish, “My dad thought Dennis was gonna be some chess prodigy because he always beat our mean older cousin when they would play, but come to find out it was just accidental magic the whole time.”

Ron shook his head in astonishment. “I think I’d much rather play than watch, but it’s mad to think what muggles will find entertaining.”

Colin shrugged, “Guess there’s just a lot more muggles to entertain in the world.”

Harry was glad to have their younger housemate there as a buffer against further talk of his relationship with Daphne so he asked him, “Do you want to be a photographer when you finish school?”

“Oh, yeah!” he bounced excitedly reminding him of Dobby. “I sold a few photos to print in the Triwizard book and took some portraits at the Yule ball. Mum says ‘find someone to pay you for doing what you love and you’ll never really have to work!’ I hope I get to find out for sure one day.” He looked back and forth between them. “What about you? What do you want to do?”

Harry shrugged in distraction, trying to decide which piece to move next. _Not that I’ve got that many pieces left to move!_ Ron answered first, “Guess I’ll work for the ministry, be an Auror…” Once he moved, his friend surveyed the board and asked, “What about you Harry? Going to join the Auror core with me?”

“I’m thinking about it, but I’ll have to find someone to run Potter Holdings once Manager Steelejaw retires,” he replied watching Ron’s knight destroy his queen. “I think I’d like that better than business or politics, but either way I’ll have to get better at strategy.” He waved his hand at the game with a self deprecating laugh. 

“You could play seeker professionally,” Colin announced loyally. “You’re brilliant at it and any team would be proud to have you!”

“Checkmate,” Ron indicated the end of the game and frowned in thought. “What’dya say we go get ready for dinner, Harry?” He rose from the table and clapped Colin on the shoulder. “See you later, Colin.” Sensing an odd turn to his friend’s mood, Harry followed him up the stairs only stopping to thank Winky for bringing them all cocoa.

He caught Ron staring blankly at his own trunk. “You all right? Seems odd to be in a funk after beating me at chess.”

He shook himself from his thoughts and faced Harry. “I’m alright. Just didn’t like all that rot about making long term plans.” He flung himself on his bed. “Seems all Lavender wants to talk about is either gossip and clothes or careers and goals. I figure we’ve got plenty of time to think about all that. Got a bigger problem to get you past this tournament and whatever You-Know-Who is up to this time.”

He nodded at that point but admitted. “It’s kinda nice for me to think about the future instead of all that for while though. Some eventual time when I don’t have to worry about crazy DADA professors, an evil Potions professor, and going back to the Dursley’s at summer.”

“Guess I can understand that, for you at least,” Ron murmured. “Different for me though. It’s all some day when I’ll have to cook my own meals, make my own way, and take up my share of the Weasley debt.”

Harry shook his head at the injustice of it. “It’s mad to think that you have to pay off some ancestor’s gambling debt. In the muggle world, you loan money to someone and they die… you lost your money. This sort of thing stopped happening ages ago.”

“Mum gets on to me about not trying harder,” his friend confessed. “It’s just hard to see the point when I’ll always have that hanging over my head.”

The boys fell silent as their roommates filtered in to put away winter items and get ready for dinner. Ron joined in as they joked and teased, but Harry leaned back against his pillow to do the newest mental exercise Uncle Algie taught them. 

With his eyes closed, he smelled the air. _Sweat and stuffiness, cocoa from my own breath, the freshening charm from whoever cleans my bed clothes…_ He tuned everything out and let his mind drift until a pillow smacked him in the face. “C’mon Harry! It’s time for dinner!”

* * *

His room at the back of the barn was cozy with a low fire. Remus stretched out in his many times repaired arm chair and enjoyed a half measure of his favorite single malt scotch. His day had been long, as they all were, but the work was pleasant and his employers kind. _Far better than a lot of situations I have had. It was kind of Dumbledore to recommend me so highly._

Most wizards would turn up their nose at working for squibs on a farm, just as most magicals would refuse to hire a werewolf. For his employers, his ability to perform magic made thier farm run well and kept their expenses down. For him, it was second only to his year teaching at Hogwarts as far as work went. The two jobs had a lot in common; a home, square meals and his wolfsbane provided.

He snuffed a laugh into his drink, “Pity the chickens aren’t better company. I might not miss teaching so much.”

His loneliness was acute that evening. It was, afterall, the anniversary of the day his best friend got married. He stared down into his glass and wondered if anyone had ever thought to tell Harry of his parent’s wedding day. _I’ve no momentos to share of that beautiful day. One more loss to blame on my curse…_

The fire flared green, startling him from his sorrowful thoughts. He scrambled for his wand, barely avoiding a spill of his drink. “Remus? Are you there?”

“Sirius!” In delight, he slid from his chair and leaned into the fire. “Tell me, is that really you?”

“In the flesh!” He replied before hesitating, “should I say ‘in the flame’ in this context?” He laughed at his own joke before finally giving the code words. “However I say it, I’m up to no good as usual.”

Remus released the breath he had held. “Well, if you’ve managed any mischief, you should tell me about it first.”

“Not much for mischief here, old friend. Just moping and lonely as to be expected on a day like today,” he replied.

“Same for me,” he admitted. “Tell me, have you seen the Triwizard book? The latest revision includes Harry looking so much like James it hurt.”

Sirius shook his glowing green head. “That book is as popular here as it is everywhere. I tried to buy a copy but the book stores are sold out with a wait list.” He mumbled bitterly, “One that even here I dare not add my name to.”

“Have you heard from him?” he asked his friend gently.

“No, not since I arranged to floo call him just before his first task,” he answered. “I hate to tell him not to write, but his owl is bloody distinctive and using a school owl is liable to be suspicious since he owns his own.” He scrubbed a hand down his gaunt face. “You hear from him, don’t you? Is he alright?”

“He’s doing well, “ he reassured. “He’s such a delightful boy. I helped him take care of shopping for his Yule gifts, but somehow he managed to surprise me with two new shirts.”

“Hah!” Sirius barked out a laugh. “Guess he’s seen how you dress!”

“Shut up, you mangy dog,” he joined him laughing at himself. “He’s also got a girlfriend, but there’s something strange there.”

“What do you mean? Who’s the girl?” he asked eagerly.

“You must not have seen The Daily Prophet lately either… The girl is one I enjoyed teaching last year, Daphne Greengrass,” Remus told him. He waited for a response but only got arched brows and an impressed expression. “The odd thing is that, despite them being very publicly together, he asked me for a way to pass confidential messages.”

“He’s fourteen,” Sirius dismissed. “He probably thinks it’s romantic.”

“I thought so too, and offered to make him some of our old treated parchment,” he told him. “When he sent me handwriting samples for the project, he sent me his, Daphne’s and Hermione Granger’s.”

“So?” Sirius shrugged off the suggestion of oddity. “Hermione’s his best friend and a bloody good friend for him to have too! Seems like you’re just letting your imagination run off with you.”

“Maybe so,” he replied skeptically. “If nothing else, those girls will be good influences on his studies. They’re both brilliant with high standards.”

“See? Nothing to worry about,” he sounded less sure than his words implied. With his next question, Remus knew something else was on his mind. “Listen, has, uh… Has Harry mentioned any odd nightmares to you?”

“Nightmares?” he asked, confused. “Nothing to me about nightmares, why do you ask?”

“He told me about waking up with his scar hurting him over the summer. He didn’t say what his dreams were but I could tell he was worried,” he shook his head in dismay. “I hate this, Remus. I’m useless. I’m out of that hell but still useless to my godson.”

When he answered, it was his loneliness that spoke for him. “You could come here.” Once the invitation left his mouth, his mind filled in with a plan to make it work. “Dufftown isn’t far from Hogsmeade. We could go down to visit Harry on the next student’s weekend. You’ll have to stay in your Padfoot form when you’re outside, but my quarters are private and no smaller than our old dorm in school.” His friend opened his mouth to protest, and he rushed to get the rest of his idea out. “I’ve mentioned to my employers about wanting to get a dog to help with the predation around the chicken house. They won’t mind, and you can help me with some of the magical repairs when no one can see. The extra work getting done will certainly lay any doubts to rest!”

“Remus,” his heart sunk at that tone. He was going to say no. “Remus, I can’t just fly Buckbeak into a Scottish farm. He’s got a death sentence. Not to mention you putting that couple and yourself in jeopardy! Harboring a fugitive is years in Azkaban! For a werewolf, they would do even worse!”

The arguments, all worries for others, buoyed him. Sirius plainly wanted a way to come home. He just wanted assurances first. “You’re right that you can’t bring Buckbeak to the farm, but surely the risk to that poor creature is high just being near you. I thought you were going to take him to that Greek sanctuary?”

“Kerkini lake,” he breathed out the name. “I’ve been meaning to, I just… I hate to abandon him.”

“Sirius, Harry needs you, and you need him. We’ll figure out the rest,” he extended his hand towards his friend. “Come home, please. Just come home.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Great Hall was not as loud as during normal term, but breakfast was still lively. Hedwig landed between Harry and Hermione at the table. Even though she put out her leg to deliver a letter to her human, she closed her eyes in apparent bliss at the strokes and scratches she received from her person’s best friend. 

“If I didn’t know better, I would think she loved Hermione best of all,” Ron laughed even as he offered the owl a bite of egg.

“What makes you think you know better?” Hermione asked with a laugh.

Harry smirked at their teasing while he pocketed his letter. He turned his full attention to Hedwig and began stroking and lightly scratching at the downy feathers where her wing joined her chest. He noticed Ron gesture towards them as she crowded closer to him demanding his full attention.

He gave her a few more loving strokes down her back and tail before selecting a piece of ham for her. She waited patiently while he tore it into pieces and hand fed her. Once it was gone, she took flight and left them behind. 

“My mum,” Lavender interjected from next to Ron at the table, “never lets us give post owls anything but owl treats. She says cured meats are bad for them, but they like them so much.”

Ron looked at her in surprise, “But you always save a piece of bacon for your family owl. In fact, I saw you give him two pieces yesterday.”

She blushed lightly, “Well Mum’s not here to know about that, is she?”

“If that’s the worst rebellion you can think of, your mum will be in for a shock when your brother gets to Hogwarts!” Ron laughed heartily at his own joke until his girlfriend struck him lightly on the arm and turned pointedly to draw Neville into a conversation.

Harry smothered a grin as Ron gave Lavender a fond smile before turning back to them. “What letter did you get Harry? Anything interesting?”

“It was from Remus,” he answered having recognized the handwriting. “It felt a bit thick so I didn’t want to open it here. Might have something I don’t want getting food all over.” He offered that explanation lightly but knew that he was also becoming more private with certain things. _None of everyone’s business what I get from my only real family anyway, especially the way some of them treated him when they found out about his problem._

“We can go to my study room if you like,” Hermione offered. “Ron, I left a book in there that will help round out your Herbology essay.”

They gathered their things and started to head off. Ron leaned down to drop a kiss to Lavender’s cheek. “Have fun with Parvati. I’ll see you at lunch.”

She waved goodbye absently but continued to talk. “That’s why the self-altering robes from Madame Malkins are fine for uniforms but don’t work for anything more tailored. I know she sells them, but they really never fit properly past the first hand alter.” Harry caught part of Lavender’s explanation to Neville and was grateful that she had chosen someone other than him for her latest makeover project. 

They were only interrupted a few times on their way out of the Hall. Most of their friends in other houses had flooed home for a few days with family. The corridor outside was quieter but still crowded. The three friends waited until they were further away to begin chatting.

“I got a package from my parents first thing this morning” Hermione informed them. “It had some of the things we were needing for the second task.”

Ron frowned at her thoughtfully. “What actually is the second task, anyway? I know you said that you had figured out part of it…” 

Hearing a bit of grumpiness at being left out, Harry filled him in as best he could. “The wailing of the egg was actually mermish song. Hermione and Daphne figured out that I’m going to have to get something from their village.”

“Swimming?” he gave him a sympathetic glance. “Pity it wasn’t heights, but i guess your luck has never been that good.”

He chuckled cynically. “Daphne says that even Felix Felicis couldn’t counteract the hex over my head.”

“Wouldn’t mind giving it a shot, though!” Ron looked across him at Hermione. “What do you think, Hermione? We managed to brew polyjuice in a loo in our second year, want to try for another challenge?”

She was already shaking her head. “I looked into it when Harry’s name first came out of the goblet but use of the potion was added as a banned item to the core enchantments of tournament almost as soon as it was invented. Taking it before a task would be considered a forfeit.”

He pressed his lips together as an idea tickled at the edge of his mind. Hermione halted them all in the hall before he could draw out this little inspiration. He grunted in frustration. _What was it that wanted to come out? I know there was an idea in there._

“I took the other way out last night so my alert charms are still up,” his friend explained at the edge of the hall that led to their destination. She quickly removed them as he resigned himself to having lost whatever thought had tried to bubble up.

They entered the fitted out room and gravitated toward the work table. Hermione drew up her favorite stool and showed Ron the transcript of the egg song. Harry ignored them for the moment in favor of his letter.

> Happy New Year, Harry
> 
> Sorry that my greetings are a few days late, but I’m glad that I waited to write as I have some good news and few things to enclose with it. The cards and pictures enclosed are all for you to keep. I had to do a bit of digging to get them for you, but I thought you could add them to your photo album. 

Harry opened the heavy other envelope curiously and found a small stack of photos. The first one he turned over was of a first year girl with red hair standing in front of the Black Lake with a small dark haired boy. She waved enthusiastically while he ignored the camera in favor of watching her. He flipped it over to see the a simple mark on the back. “LE & SS 02/02/1971”

 _LE… my mum?_ Excitedly, he flipped through the rest of the photos. One large group picture was taken in the Gryffindor common room. He flipped the back and read the note. _Gryffindor first years? This must have been taken right after the sorting._ He turned back to the faces and eagerly picked out all the ones he knew. 

“Look at this,” he caught Ron and Hermione’s attention. “It’s a group shot of my parent’s class right after sorting.” He gleefully pointed out the faces that he recognized. “There’s my mum, and I think that’s Neville’s mum next to her. Then there’s my Dad, and Sirius and Remus.”

Ron laughed a bit, “They all look so small!”

“Where do you think Remus got these?” Hermione was already flipping through the other photos with curiosity. Harry blinked hard at the burning in his eyes and turned back to his letter for the answer.

> Most of the photos are from first and second year. I had lunch the other day with a cousin of Alice Longbottom. It seems that a few of her photo albums had gotten left at their grandparents’s home. Unfortunately, there are few pictures of Alice herself as your godmum preferred to be behind the camera.
> 
> Deidre made me copies of any photos with your parents in them. I was tempted to cull the few with me in them, but I refrained. You’re welcome. 

Harry gave Hermione her answer and turned back to his letter eagerly.

> I have had a busy time of it since I last wrote you on Boxing Day. We’ve been having issues with predation in the chicken house so I decided to adopt a dog. My employers were intrigued by ideas of a puppy, but I felt it would be more practical to rescue an older animal. 
> 
> I brought Snuffles home to the farm yesterday and so far he has proved to be quite the gentleman. The family I adopted him from has a bit of a fearsome reputation, but this dog is fun fellow and already making himself useful. I’ll bring him with me to see you at Hogsmeade when you have your next weekend. 

Harry’s heart started pounding in excitement. _Did he mean that Sirius is with him at Dufftown? That I’ll be able to see him in_ _Hogsmeade_ _?_ He quickly turned back to the letter.

> I was very upset to read Skeeter’s latest series on Hogwarts staffing. I know that you and Hagrid are friends so I hope you’ll pass along for him a postcard I enclosed. The Kerkini Lake refuge has a large Hyppogriff herd that enjoys protected status by the ICW. Their herd is so healthy and well treated that they are considered a model environment for studying the animals. I thought he would enjoy knowing that others in the world appreciates magical creatures as he does.

Harry dug through the various things he sent to find a large card with a beautiful photo of a lake and pasture. A group of Hyppogriff mares preened and stretched thier wings as a familiar looking stallion stood to one side admiring them. _Buckbeak_ _?_ He eagerly flipped the card over.

> Dear Mr. Lupin,
> 
> We thank you for the generous memorial donation. Reverse is one of the pictures that we took with the new camera equipment we were able to afford. We are excited to be able to photo document hatchlings and further study our herd’s hunting behaviors.
> 
> I hope that we can continue our correspondence.
> 
> Dimitris Lykaios

“Buckbeak’s ok! and I think Sirius is coming home!” He exclaimed so suddenly that his friends jumped in surprise. 

“What all did Lupin write you, Harry?” Ron grinned as he reached out a hand for the postcard he held. 

He passed over the card and held up the letter for emphasis. “I’m only half through the letter itself! Hard to believe how busy he’s been since he wrote last.”

> I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. Your last letter outlining the preparations that you’ve made for the second task were brilliant. I made a list of references and spells for you that might help build upon what you have so far. I think you’ll bring a wonderful mix of muggle and magical solutions that the tournament designers would never have imagined. You even inspired me to look into a few muggle solutions for some problems that I needed resolved. 
> 
> I know that you credit your friends with their good influence, but never doubt that you are an inspiration in your own right. I don’t mean all that political fame, either. You inspire me to be the proactive and supportive person I should have been all along in your life. I know that Hermione and Ron could tell you of the ways that you bring out great things in them as well.
> 
> Pardon me for getting sappy to the end. I hope that everything else I included will make up for it. Let’s plan for a floo call the first morning of term, say an hour before breakfast? 
> 
> Until then, give my best to everyone.
> 
> Uncle Moony

He groaned at the idea of a early morning but knew that it would give them privacy that was often in short supply. Hermione had a list in her hand that she was checking against her personal bookshelf. He frowned a little at the parchment she held.

“What’s that, Hermione?” He asked in confusion.

“Oh!” she suddenly seemed to realize that she had pulled something from his letter enclosures before he saw it. “It’s a list of spell recommendations and references to help you prepare for the second task. There’s a few things we’ve already been practicing, but he suggested a few books I didn’t even consider.”

She apologetically passed him the parchment. He smiled as he took it. “Thanks, I…” He trailed off because Remus’s handwriting faded before his eyes. It was replaced with Sirius’s distinctive scrawl.

The first words, “Pup, keep this letter to yourself for now…” decided how he would handle the moment. He reluctantly set the letter aside in favor of drawing his wand and casting a tempus. To his surprise, the morning was half gone.

He folded Sirius’s note into his pocket and gathered the rest of the pieces from Remus’s letter. “What do you say we try to go cheer up Hagrid before lunch?”

Ron and Hermione quickly agreed. They grabbed a few other things on their way out of the room. “You’ll want this book for your herbology essay, and I’ll need a few things from the library after we visit Hagrid.”

He closed and secured the door behind him. Much as he wanted to find a place to devour his letter from Sirius, he made up his mind to wait until later. _Maybe I can let Hermione and Daphne sneak off together after lunch. No one will look for any of us that way._ Even with a plan, it took some of Uncle Algie’s training to set aside his impulses and focus on his friends.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy’s coldly elegant taste were on display in every room of Malfoy Manor but they were showcased most prominently in her personal study. She reread her stern letter to Pansy Parkinson and nodded in satisfaction. _A politician’s daughter should not have to be told to keep her wand up her sleeve and her true thoughts to herself._

Her floo flared and Lucius stepped out. It was rare for him to come home directly into her study rather than his own, but he stood next to her elegant fireplace looking as sophisticated as the rest of her decor. _Perhaps I should get a family statue commissioned? It might make a nice statement piece for the room._

“Does something amuse you, my love?” Her husband’s cultured tones pierced her musing.

“Not at all,” she deflected, standing so that he could press a warm kiss to her hand. “I was merely working on some correspondence.”

She sat behind her desk again and considered him. He stood still with a forced relaxation. Their years together made reading him, an impossible task for most, simple for her. She waited patiently. _He’ll tell me when he’s ready._

“Skeeter’s series on Hogwarts is building the will for an audit of the school among the Ministry and the Board of Governors. Her efforts have born more fruit that we could have hoped.” The news should have been good, but instead he sounded worried.

“Should I accelerate Miss Skeeter’s payment, or do you think we should change her instructions?” She asked him, pulling a fresh parchment toward her.

“That is part of my concern,” he crossed the room stare out the window across the grounds. “Things are moving faster on that end than I anticipated. While I think we can get the audit, we don’t have votes on the Board to place our own man as a new headmaster.”

“A pity that we couldn’t bring pressure to retire a few of Dumbledore’s people on the Board after the Chamber of Secrets incident,” she mused. “It might have salvaged some good from that fiasco.”

“Yes, well,” he frowned at that. “It did prove your suspicion that The Dark Lord was not fully honest with any of us.”

She sniffed in derision, “A pity he managed to destroy the Black family line before we saw it. It will take generations to rebuild even if we can get a second heir out of Draco.”

He tapped his walking stick against the floor in a short rhythm. “Dolores Umbridge is moving quickly to consolidate her power.”

Her brows rose in a rare unfiltered reaction. “To what end?”

“I’m not certain yet, but she has managed to ingratiate herself with the Unspeakables, and she has set herself up as the power broker behind promotions within the ministry. Fudge delegates far too much to her, and she is using the ministry seats to draft and push forward legislation in the Wizengamot that gets attention.” He turned back to her. 

She frowned in displeasure, “She can’t be going for Fudge’s seat. She doesn’t have the charisma or the popularity for it.”

“Whatever she is intending, we will have to bring her to heel. I will not have her or anyone else capitalizing on or sabotaging our efforts to bring Hogwarts under our influence. It’s taken far too long to undermine Dumbledore as it is,” he said stridently. “I was almost ready to suggest that Skeeter accelerate her book but with this new wrinkle…”

“Perhaps now is not a time for us to alter our primary strategy but to add a layer to it instead,” she commented thoughtfully. She tapped her quill to her desktop. “We have managed to place old friends in most of the ministry seats. Umbridge might use them for her ends, but they will stand by us if it comes to that. Instead, we could undermine her through a few like minded allies.”

“I’m listening,” he settled in the chair across from her.

“First, we need to seem to ally with her on something reasonably harmless. We’ll get one of our proxy’s…” She hummed a moment. “Goyle, I think… to propose an amendment to her Wolfsbane tax that will narrow it to only impact the current recipe. It will mean a minor reduction to our profits, but the tax is popular with most of our faction of Wizarding Britain. We’ll sponsor Sev to work on a new recipe that we can option to the other Potioneers. He was close to a breakthrough last year but stopped short of completing the work.”

Her husband smiled slowly. “Very nice, my dear. We get lauded for voting for a popular tax despite a hit to our own business interests then make up the money with a new formula that the other potion houses have to buy from us.”

She nodded and continued. “We need to make some effort to rebuild our relationship with House Greengrass. Before they left for Greece, Laurel indicated that Daphne and Draco have developed some antipathy.”

“I had gathered the same idea from Pansy when I paid Elias a visit just after Yule.” Lucius remarked. “Is it bad enough to abandon our hopes for the consort agreement between them?”

“Yes,” she told him bluntly. “It is bad enough between them and several other houses that my next to letter to our son will include firm reminders to moderate his impolitic speech. Our family image is too important to allow him to tarnish it with a few schoolboy feuds.”

“I suppose Arcturus was right, and it was a mistake to allow my father to spoil the boy,” he admitted that but ignored his own culpability in their son’s petulant nature.

She graciously glossed over the issues in their child rearing. “Abraxus adored him. After his grief over the accident with Medusa, it would have been cruel to keep them apart.” She sighed, _I’ve no patience with these sorts of recriminations._ “We still have time to reign Draco in. In addition to my upcoming letters, I’ll instruct Sev to take a firmer hand with him. If we can teach him to be more discreet by the end of term, perhaps over holidays we can find him a project that will build a bit of appreciation for the Malfoy approach to business and politics.”

“Perhaps something on the Black side?” He seemed pleased with the idea. “The managers will be less impressed with his name.”

Her eyes lit up at the idea and she pulled the Black Holdings statement from her desk. She skimmed down the company listings until she found what she wanted. “Black Designs and Fashions has been in contract disputes with all of their materials suppliers. Sales are flat; costs are up; and the manager is overtly hostile to new ideas. We’ll ask Draco to audit operations and give a few suggestions for improving the situation.”

“That sounds interesting. Why haven’t we made an effort to correct it before?” He asked his questions idly, sure that there was a reason.

“The manager is Artemis Fudge, Cornelius’s boy…” She shrugged. “We aren’t loosing money. We just aren’t making what we should be. I think it will do Draco good to come up against an entitled brat who will go nowhere due to his own personality. Our boy needs to learn that money and business are only the means to an end if he is ever to head our house.”

“You are a brilliant woman, Narcissa.” He rose and walked behind her desk. “I remain forever grateful that our fathers saw fit to match us.”

She took his offer of a hand up from her chair. “My correspondence can wait if you would prefer to have early lunch?” He gave her his most charming smile and drew her in for a kiss.

* * *

Harry slipped away from Hermione and Daphne and entered the secret passage. He started to pull his map from his bag before he remembered, _The twins finally claimed it for a prank they’re planning on the rest of the Quidditch team._ Instead of using the map to search for some place private, he walked ahead and set a privacy charm.

He cast a cleaning and cushioning charm on the stone floor and sat down. One more wave of his wand gave him enough light read by. With relief, he pulled the letter from his pocket.

> Pup,
> 
> Keep this letter to yourself for now. It’s not that I distrust your friends, certainly not that, but there are good people that I’ve put at risk to be close to you. The more people that know where I am, the greater the chance someone will find out.

Harry cursed to himself and tried to remember what he had actually told Hermione and Ron as he read Remus’s letter. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he read on.

> Remus says I’m being paranoid, but I set up a batch of parchment like he did for you and your girlfriend. This one is just for him, you and me. This letter is written on it, and I’ll send you some to use as well. It might seem odd to send back and forth blank parchment so I’ll send it with some school supplies via Hedwig. I’m sorry that everything has to be so complicated.
> 
> I know we haven’t had much chance to write this year, but I’ve read the letters you sent to Remus and was relieved that Algie Longbottom has been giving you lessons. The methods you describe are the same ones that your Grandfather Fleamont taught to me and your dad when we were only a little older than you. They work well and are a good foundation for other mental magics. 
> 
> I understand if you’re not comfortable talking to him about it, but I think you should tell Algie about your nightmares. Some of the reason that Fleamont taught us early was to help me deal with the nightmares I had after leaving home. 

He set the letter down a moment and mulled over Sirius’s request. _He’s right that I’m not comfortable talking about it. I almost didn’t send him the letter about them… Can I bring myself to bring up something so personal? Will Sirius be disappointed in me if I don’t?_ He knocked his head lightly against the stone wall at his back before deciding to leave that for another day.

> I have a few ideas for your second task plan. I understand your thoughts on the Bubblehead Charm, but there are downsides even after you master it. (Which I know you would if you decided to.) The couple that runs this farm have extensive greenhouses and grow something called gillyweed. I’ll send you some with the box of supplies.
> 
> I want you to put on your wet-suit and gear and try swimming with the gillyweed. I know that Black Lake is frigid right now, but it will be no warmer during the task. If you don’t react well to the gillyweed, we need to know quickly so that we can come up with a different plan.
> 
> I wish I could think of a way to figure out what they were going to hide down there. It would help to know if it’s something you could put in a pocket or strap to your back for an easier swim back. I guess that part doesn’t really change the plan much. Afterall, all you really need to do is your best and stay alive. (Especially the latter!)
> 
> I’ll have to stay out of sight for your floo call with Remus but know that I’ll be listening and missing you.
> 
> Sirius

His head filled with a world of anxieties: Sirius and Remus’s safety; swimming in the Black Lake; telling anyone other than Sirius about his nightmares. It was all enough to make his stomach roil. He pulled out the letter from Remus and read it again before he burned it to ash. 

That precaution taken, he drew in a deep breath. _What do I smell? Dust, burned paper, my own sweat… What do I hear? my own heartbeat, my breath… What do I feel? a light breeze, stones worn smooth, my shoes are getting too tight…_ The observation broke his concentration as he wiggled his foot to try and stretch the material. Annoyed at himself and suddenly very frustrated with his shoes, he pulled them off and began casting cushioning spells into the toes.

Once he put himself back together, he pulled his invisibility cloak out. He had only given Hermione and Daphne an hour alone. _Think I’ll sneak off to see what the twins are actually up to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to believe that I've written over 120,000 words on this project since January. Fortunately, I'm still enjoying writing it. I hope y'all are still enjoying reading it.  
> Stay safe & well.


	3. Chapter 3

Daphne entered the small sitting room off Professor Snape’s office knowing only that she had been summoned to greet a visitor. Her confusion evaporated into delight when she spotted her father standing near the fireplace. He mirrored her happiness in his broad smile and open arms.

“Dad!” she cried, rushing into his arms without regard for her normal dignity. “It’s wonderful to see you! How was Greece?”

“Greece was lovely,” he assured her, hugging back tightly. “The only thing missing was my darling girls.”

She luxuriated in the warm embrace for another moment before she asked, “Did Aunt Violet have a good birthday?”

“Yes,” he pulled back and smiled at her. “We all had a lovely time. I sent her upstairs to catch up with your cousin and sister. I wanted to speak to you about a few things in private.”

She felt worry flicker up. “Is something wrong?” _What could he want to talk to only me about?_

“Not particularly…” He waved to the chairs across from where they stood. “Shall we sit?”

_Nothing’s wrong, but you want to sit before we talk?_ She carefully masked her anxiety over his odd behavior and sat with him. “Dobby?” she called out with her magic. 

Winky appeared instead which added another layer to her worry. “Missy Daphne, Dobby’s is busy. Cans Winky be of help?”

She held in her curiosity over that news. “Yes, dear. Could you please let Harry and Hermione know that I won’t be able to meet them afterall?”

The little elf glanced between her and her father. “Yes, missy. Winky is happy to help. Wills you be eating lunch in the Hall?”

The question surprised her. “I’m not sure. My father and I have a few things to discuss.”

Her ears drooped in a clear sign of displeasure. “Winky will brings you a tray from the kitchen. It won’t dos for yous to go hungry.”

Despite her worries, she laughed lightly at the mothering nature of her dear one’s friend. “That would be lovely Winky. Thank you very much for thinking of it.”

She popped away, and Daphne turned to find her father looking at her with surprise. “That seems quite unusual.”

“Harry and Hermione have friends among the elves,” she explained trying to play down the exchange. “Winky seems to have taken several of us as her charges especially over Yule.”

“Did you pick up the habit of such mannerly treatment of them from Harry also?” his question was mild, but it grated a bit. _As though I shouldn’t treat them such…_

“I hardly see a reason to treat generous and brave magical creatures as inferior. They do a lot to help us, and all they really want is appreciation. It costs me nothing to give it.” She failed in her effort to remain calm. Her anxiety from the start of their conversation bubbled over into her defensive reply.

“Your treatment of others does you credit, but I’m curious about the changes I see in you. You get a boyfriend that seems quite serious and suddenly you’ve revealed antipathy toward House Malfoy, brought Astoria’s muggle born friend into sponsorship, and begun friendly relations with free elves.” He leaned back in his chair and left a long pause for her to fill.

Her mind went blank for an answer to his unasked question. As she sat before him, striving for composure, she suddenly remembered a lesson she rarely had reason to use. _When you need information from someone else, give the other person silence to fill. Most people will give you answers to questions you didn’t even know to ask._ She held in her relieved chuckled and deliberately gave him a blandly composed look. 

Their quiet stalemate broke when a tray of sandwiches appeared with Winky holding two glasses of water. “Master Harry and Missy Hermione says that theys will sees you after yous visit. They be going to the library after lunch.”

To her pleasure, her father mirrored her earlier courtesy. “Thank you very much, Winky.”

She blinked at him in surprise and popped away. Daphne took a moment to serve them their light lunch. She smiled when he broke the silence to thank her. She balanced her plate as she responded.

“I had forgotten your lesson about silences until now. That is what you were doing?” She asked him mildly.

He smiled happily. “I always enjoy your forward approach to our lessons. “ He sipped his water before going on. “Yes, I was trying my little tactic of silence. I hoped that you would tell me things that might explain the changes that I see in you.”

She focused on staying relaxed, _Dad’s always respected my privacy before, it won’t do for him to decide that needs to change._ “I will admit that getting to know Harry and some of his friends better has opened my eyes and mind a bit. But I will also say that I am not the only one in Slytherin house that has changed this year.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a frown.

“At first, I thought it had started with the attack on Tracey’s cousin, but Sarah says people were being deliberately demeaning to her before then. I think the attack at the Quidditch World Cup emboldened those that harbor blood prejudices.” She set aside her plate as the upsetting topic ruined her appetite. “In prior years, the worst of it was name calling and occasional fights between Slytherin and Gryffindor boys, usually confined to specific rivalries. Malfoy and Harry loath each other. Flint and the Weasley twins abhor each other as well.”

Her father nodded, apparently familiar with those issues. “But now, how have things changed?”

“The half-bloods are being treated more harshly. It seemed like simple jealousy at first. If a pureblood boy even spoke to the half-blood girls, the girl would find her belongings damaged or missing.” She pinched her lips together thinking how she had held back her anger on those minor insults. “Then Pucey orchestrated the attack on Ellen. Despite the punishments, it seemed to embolden the worst of the purists.”

“Has anyone been seriously injured?” His genuine concern relieved her.

“The hospital wing has certainly been busy, but so far there’s been nothing that required a trip to St. Mungos. Most punishments have been kept in house.” She took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, much of that is due to luck. The attack on Tracey could have been much worse. And several of us have intervened to prevent curses in the back and other attacks against half-bloods and muggle borns, especially the younger years.”

“I’m proud of you Daphne,” she jerked her head up at his statement. “It can be easier to look away in these cases… let people defend themselves.”

“I’m confused,” she admitted. “I thought you would have expected me to seek a balance.”

“I do expect that, but not in the way that you think,” He sighed. “House Greengrass seeks a balance within the wizarding world… the whole of it. Hogwarts is only one small and isolated part.”

She felt something ease in her chest, and he continued. “For the rest of the wizarding world, blood purity focus is seen as backward at best and dangerous at worst. In global business, we can not be seen as a family that might embrace the mindsets of Grindelwald and his ilk. In the Wizengamot, we have a chance to provide a place for those that are uncomfortable with the risks and changes that muggle borns bring.”

She drew a breath to protest, and he held up a hand to forestall her words. “The Statute of Secrecy, one of our highest laws, is put at risk each time a magic user comes into contact with a muggle. I see the ministry budgets; the Obliviators are growing faster than any other department. They recruit more than even the Aurors. Unfortunately, the Wizengamot factions either choose to ignore that fact or try to use it to block muggle borns from our society entirely.”

“I know what Head Malfoy and his cronies want, but why do others choose to ignore it?” She puzzled over his words and what she knew of the factions.

“I think, for families like Bones and Longbottom, the specter of another war looms large. They know how fragile our peace truly is. They simply don’t have the votes to pass reform in their own right, and they have supported too many progressive changes for the moderate traditionalists to rally behind them.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “When your grandfather took over as Head of House, he decided to focus our political efforts on business and profits. It worked, and I continued that philosophy. Unfortunately, I failed to adapt when the Wizengamot lost members in the war against You-Know-Who. After his fall, House Malfoy became something of a king-maker in our political world.”

“Knowing what I hear from Heir Malfoy, I would hate to hear their real agenda,” she admitted with a shudder.

“I agree,” he said simply. “And that’s why we, your mother, Violet, Dan and I, have decided that we need to give the moderate traditionalists an alternative.” He reached to refill his water. “Head Malfoy does not command as many votes as he thinks. Some of his close cronies and the ministry seats will always vote with him if he orders them, but families like Fawley, Slughorn, and Selwyn… They owe him nothing but vote with him out of habit and common interest.”

“What will this change for us?” she asked cautiously. 

“A few things will change on the business responsibilities… Your aunt and uncle will take over more responsibilities for the day-to-day business decisions. I will continue to oversee our holdings, of course.” He smiled at her. “Your mother will begin a column in the Daily Prophet on wizarding traditions and customs. She intends to accept select muggle born questions so that we can show an alternative to the hard line blood purity narrative.”

“I have a friend that will love that!” She grinned at him. “I’ve teased her about writing a muggle born’s guidebook to Wizarding Britain.”

“Well, I hope you’ll encourage her to write your mother with a few questions. I intend to ask Sarah to do the same.” He patted her hand. “That brings us to what I need from you.”

She sat up straighter at this, “What can I do?”

“You’ve already started doing it by accident,” he reassured her. “You’ve made an effort to ensure that the muggle borns and half-bloods in your circle are educated on our traditions. Now, I simply need you to do it mindfully.” 

She thought for a moment, “Hermione was quite curious about Imbolg… perhaps we could celebrate it at our Hogsmeade house and arrange for friends to attend?”

He disappointed her, “It’s a nice idea, but Imbolg is mid-week this year. I doubt we’ll be able to arrange for leave from school for a large celebration. We can consider something for Beltane, though, if you like.”

Inspiration struck, “I can work with them to design an invocation blessing for the 2nd Triwizard task!” She grinned excitement at the idea. “It would be fairly public by nature as the task will be in Black Lake, and we could include it in the Compendium.”

Her heart swelled with happiness at the proud smile he gave her. “That’s an excellent idea.”

* * *

Harry eyed the glimmering necklace that levitated before his eyes. He could feel it drawing him, calling to him. _I can feel the difference between my curiosity and the compulsion to touch it!_

He glanced over to where Neville sat on his hands. The jewel was a test of their lessons so far. Algie told them that, when last touched, it had caused a man to dance until he collapsed. 

“The spell is similar to one cast over a cask of wine in Strasbourg a few centuries ago.” Algie had informed them before lifting lid on the protective jewelry box. “The wizard that cast the spell swore he just thought it would be amusing, but there were at least three people that danced themselves to death. “

His trust in Uncle Algie surprised him, but he knew the old wizard would never let them come to real harm. _Still, I don’t want to embarrass myself dancing around the castle. He might not let us come to harm, but it might be bad if we get away from him._

“Alright, gentlemen, rest your hands, palm up, in your laps,” the older man instructed. “You’ve had time to understand what the compulsion feels like, I want you to resist touching the locket even as I dangle it above your hands.”

By silent consensus, he moved to Harry first. He held the pendant carefully by the chain and dangled it. It was so close that he could almost feel it, cold metal almost against his skin. 

Longing struck him. _It’s beautiful…_ The shine and shimmer entranced him, and he thought the light blue looked like Daphne’s eyes. _I could give it to her. I just have to reach up and take it. She’ll love me if I give her something so valuable…_ The mad thought broke the pendant’s spell on his mind. _Daphne doesn’t love me; she loves Hermione. And she’s not so shallow that one trinket will change that!_

He carefully slid his hand sideways away from the temptation. “I think, uh… I think if you let Neville try it a moment?”

Uncle Algie gave him a kind smile, “Sure Harry. Sneaky thing, isn’t it?”

He nodded in agreement. As he watched Neville go through the same test, he realized that The Mirror of Erised had insinuated itself in his mind in a similar way. “Uncle Algie, is it conscious? Does it really know what we want?”

Relief struck when he shook his head. “Not this one, but some magical items can and do enter your mind. Those are more dangerous than this thing and not something I would bring into a school. The risks of accidents for some of the young ones, you know.”

Neville huffed out a laugh, “This from a man that dropped me from a window?”

Harry thought he spied a blush on Algie’s face, “Didn’t mean to drop you… Enid distracted me…”

He pulled the pendant from both their reach and dropped it into the box. He clapped the lid closed. “Give us all a moment to clear our heads?”

Harry startled at the difference in the room and himself. Suddenly, his tension eased, and he felt less crowding in his own head. “What’s special about that box that it can block the compulsion spell?”

Algie held it out for him to see. The entire wooden box was covered in tiny runes. “Even the hinges have runes on them,” Neville announced in awe. 

The older man nodded, “Yes, and the inside looks much the same. The rune structure was specially designed for this pendant by your great-grand-father. The pendant had belonged to his mother so he was unwilling to risk it’s destruction with a cleansing ritual.”

Remembering something Dobby had told him, he asked, “Will the spells eventually fade? Did they use to be stronger?”

“It’s difficult to tell without a charms master to test it, but the magic from the initial spells will eventually dissipate. I couldn’t tell you if it was truly stronger in my youth or if I’ve only become accustomed to resisting it.” He started the exercise over by opening the box. 

“Uncle Algie,” Neville asked him. “Is there an ethical use for compulsion spells like this one?”

The proud look he received made Harry happy on his friend’s behalf. “That’s a difficult question. Mild ones can help get potions down sick patients, especially small children, but they can interfere with some potions so that can be challenging.” He seemed to think a moment. “Aurors have used them to ensure that criminals pick up and carry tracking charms… But the ethical uses are fewer than the unethical ones.”

“I have a few friends that are working on a crystal to cast a passive revealing charm on items,” Harry told them. “Daphne says that most common use items in the castle have had some sort of compulsion or other harmful magic cast on them at some point.”

As Algie responded, he felt the desire for the pendant come to the forefront of his thoughts. He spied Neville reaching for it and reflexively slapped his hand. His friend startled and laughed out loud. “Thanks, Harry!”

“Did you even realize that you wanted it, Neville?” thier mentor asked them. “Did either of you realize that you were reaching out for it?”

His friend flushed. “I didn’t realize until Harry smacked me.”

“I think I realized that it had me when I was talking about Daphne’s spell,” he admitted.

“That’s important for you to realize, distractions can keep you from resisting an insidious compulsion even if you know it’s there.” Algie levitated the pendant from the box.

Realizing that they were supposed to practice resisting even when distracted, Harry decided to ask a few questions that had bothered him. “Uncle Algie, how does what you’re teaching compare to Occlumency?”

He raised his brows and the levitating necklace wobbled in his surprise. “Occlumency? How did you hear about that?”

Harry flushed a little but answered, “Someone told me it might help with my nightmares.”

He got a look of concern from Neville that he tried to ignore. “Harry, are your nightmares really bad? I feel awful that I haven’t noticed.”

“They’re not always bad, just sometimes,” he mumbled.

Algie squeezed his shoulder in an unexpected show of affection. “Occlumency can be effective for teaching people to function with traumas, but it can be difficult to learn. That’s why it’s rare and, like most mental magics, not taught at Hogwarts.”

They all leaned back into their prior postures, and Algie continued his explanation. “The methods that I’m teaching you will help you separate your will from the will of someone else imposed on you. In that way, it is related to Occlumency but deceiving or ejecting a Legilemens is a skill that few ever learn, and that is the true intent behind the art.”

“Legilemens?” he asked quietly.

“It’s mind reading, Harry,” Neville answered. 

Algie nodded, “A skilled Legilemens can enter your mind and find the one thing you don’t want them to know. They can even implant memories or ideas.”

Harry hunched in on himself in protection from that. _As if getting dragged into Voldemort’s diary wasn’t bad enough!_ “But, can I learn it, Occlumency? I, uh, I don’t want anyone in my head. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Not everyone can learn Occlumency, it requires an ability to carve off and box in your emotions that I’ve never had,” his mentor admitted. “I can teach you the foundation of it. In some ways, I’m already teaching those lessons, but I’ve never been able to deceive someone from within.”

“Uncle,” Neville started softly. “Do you have to be aware for it to work?”

“Against an opponent, yes,” he sighed. “That’s why these skills are foundational. You’re learning to recognize something outside of yourself that’s acting on your will.”

Suddenly feeling impatient, Harry glared at the pendant. It hovered between him and Neville, still glittering and tantalizing. When Neville, still focused on Algie’s words, reached for it, he snatched it from the air.

The moment it touched his hand, a feeling of glorious euphoria poured over and into him. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to dance to the song in his heart. Visions of dancing at the Yule ball drew forward into his mind. He longed for the dizzy feeling of twirling across the floor.

He stared down at the necklace in his hand. The feeling of irritation and invasion overwhelmed the glorious visions of dancing. He pushed out with those emotions, utterly rejecting the foreign ones. Rather than rising to his feet in frantic gyrating dance, Harry leaned forward and dropped the pendant into its protective box and closed the lid.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione groggily sat in the Gryffindor common room reading about the protective ancient runes that Harry and Neville had described to her. _Maybe treating my study room as a contained unit would be too ambitious, but there might be something in the idea of containing sound and magic that will help us structure privacy and protection runes._ She admitted to herself that the original idea was attractive as a way to protect her parents and their home despite their muggle status and her age. She heard slow foot falls on the boy’s staircase and looked up.

When Harry appeared she smiled in sleepy greeting. “Good Morning, Harry.”

“Mmm, Morning,” he replied with a yawn. “Thanks for getting up so early.”

“You’re welcome. It’s not much earlier than I normally get up,” she fibbed.

He settled himself in front of the fireplace just as the flames went green with a floo call. Hermione ignored their greetings for the moment as she cast a few alert charms to keep any of the boys from sneaking up behind them. _Glad I already cast a few other charms for privacy before Harry got up._

Satisfied with her work, she sat next to Harry and leaned in. “Good morning, Professor Lupin.”

“Hermione, Good Morning!” He chuckled lightly. “I think you can call me Remus these days. I’m not your professor anymore.”

“It feels odd, but I’ll try,” she answered.

“Remus, the pictures you sent were wonderful. I hope you don’t mind that I shared them with Neville. He doesn’t get as many stories about his mum as he does his dad,” Harry told him.

His eery green face looked regretful, “I guess that’s one more thing you two have in common. I was actually in a study group with Alice and your mum. I could send you a few stories of them both that you could share with him?”

Her best friend’s sleepy face brightened at the offer. “That sounds amazing, Remus. I know that Neville will appreciate it too.”

“I’ll work on that for your next letter. Today, you should have some additional school supplies in with your mail. I know that most of the books and references I sent you were in the library, but I included the one that was out of print. If you can’t find any others, just let me know,” his consideration came through in his quiet voice. 

Harry nodded, “Will you let me know how much the supplies were? That way I can reimburse you?”

He was already shaking his head, “They weren’t expensive, so don’t worry about it. And the book was already part of my collection. You’ll just need to return it at some point.”

She was surprised when Harry started to protest, “You don’t have to spend money on me. I can pay you back for it, really.”

Remus’s face tensed with stubbornness. “You can consider it a belated birthday gift if you prefer. I missed more than a few of them in your life, afterall.”

She nudged Harry with her foot to distract him. “I know you two will need to settle spending issues at some point. After all, Remus,” she carefully emphasized his name. “If Harry worries that you’re spending too much on him, he might hesitate to ask you for help.”

He smiled at her, “Thanks, Hermione.” 

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a yawn. “Maybe for now, we could talk about your idea for a practice session for the 2nd task?”

“Right as usual, Hermione,” Remus replied. “How about you two take me back through the poem before we go over what supplies you already have?”

* * *

The day after classes started back was the best any of them could do for the next addition to the Compendium. Any work due after holidays was complete, and the four Triwizard champions sat together with Penelope Clearwater for an interview.

When Daphne first proposed it, Harry had hated the idea, but she suggested that he would interview his fellow champions. Somehow that had felt better than all of them being interviewed by someone else. 

“All right, champions,” she set up a dicta-quill and parchment. “We’ll each take turns with the questions we reviewed, and you’ll all have a chance to ask each other your own questions. The transcript will be printed in the compendium with the question and each of your answers.”

“Oh, there we are!” Harry cringed at the sound of that simpering voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for the right room,” Rita Skeeter announced as she and her photographer made their way to the front of the room. 

She ignored the glares of his fellow champions as she attempted to shoo Penelope from her seat. “Scoot over, dearie and let the professional’s take over. You can watch from over there,” she waved toward the corner of the room. “Who knows, you might learn something.”

As Head Girl, Penelope had commanded the respect of even the Gryffindors. She treated the reporter like she often had unruly third year boys. “You’ve no business here. Leave now.” Despite sitting in a low chair, she gave the older woman a cold look that should have sent Skeeter running. Instead, it only froze away her falsely affable and cheerful demeanor. 

She leaned deliberately into Penelope’s face, her posture so overtly threatening that Harry rested his hand on the handle of his wand for a quick draw. “Listen here, you little interloper. The Daily Prophet has exclusive rights to report on the tournament so you can either move out of my way or leave entirely!”

Harry met Viktor’s eyes across their fellows. He was holding his wand also, and, by silent agreement, they prepared to defend Penelope from Skeeter and her pet photographer. Before he could decide on how to interpret the side glance and wink Viktor sent him, Cedric disarmed the budding conflict with one word.

“No,” the tall Hufflepuff said firmly. 

“Excuse me?” She sounded honestly confused.

“I said, no. You’re not a part of this conversation, and you are not welcome here. Whatever privilege your qualifications gave you, you squandered them when you printed nonsense and lies. Now leave, before we get insistent.” He said it all calmly, but he rested the tip of his wand on his knee. The implications were clear.

He and Viktor shared a grin and deliberately held their wands low but visible. Fleur gave the photographer a flirtatious smile that disarmed him faster than Harry’s spell could have. “Madame Skeeter, you may be zee **experienced** witch in zee room, but you are being asked to leave by four people zat have faced dragons before and emerged victorious. You would be best to leave us, while we are asking.”

“Well,” she huffed. “Clearly you children have become obstinate in your fame. I shall leave it to your headmasters to bring you in line.” She twirled around and dragged her entranced photographer with her as she left the room.

Fleur sniffed haughtily, “Such an unpleasant woman.”

“Dah,” Viktor agreed. “She is exceedingly unpleasant.”

Penelope drew in a long breath then smiled. “Well, thank you all for defending our space. Perhaps this display is a good example of the reason that you were each chosen. You have courage, confidence and integrity.”

She glanced back at the dicta-quill which still scratched away. “Now, you each selected from a panel of suggested questions and crafted a few of your own. Since you are interviewing each other, we will go around the circle anti-clockwise. When it comes back to you, you’ll answer your own question. Then, we’ll move on to the next champion.”

At her nod to him, Harry picked up his notes. He looked to Fleur at his side and asked, “Why did you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Ze wizarding world can have so many preconceived notions about what makes a powerful magic user. At one time, witches were known for power, skill and cunning in all forms of magic. In France, zhere was a time when mixed blood like mine was an indicator of exceptional ability. I wanted to show ze world zis is still ze case.” She spoke quietly but firmly. At the end of her answer, Penelope nodded in affirmation.

Cedric chuckled ruefully, “I wish I had such a profound reason for entering,” he shrugged. “Honestly, I wanted to represent Hogwarts well, of course. But I, also, had expected to put a lot of time and energy into the quidditch season if I wanted a hope against Harry! Since I had that plan, I took two of my NEWTs early and needed a way use my time when the season was cancelled.”

Harry was still flushed at Cedric’s compliments of his quidditch skills when Viktor drew a breath to start. “I entered into tournament for many reasons… To make family, country and school proud, of course… but also as chance to meet others from around wizarding world. Quidditch World Cup let me meet only few fans with no chance to get to know them. Tournament has granted me new friends in my fellow champions and among others in schools.” He deliberately looked around the group, “These friendships I hope to keep.”

They all smiled at Viktor, and it took Harry a moment to realize that it was his turn. He drew a breath and hesitated. “As all of you know already, I didn’t enter myself into the tournament. Since I don’t know who did, I can’t know their motivations. Now that I am one of the champions, I can say that I value the friends that I’m making, the skills that I’m learning and the chance to still give Cedric a run for his money.”

Cedric laughed heartily at his joke, “As you already have!”

He smirked at the response his unscripted addition to the answer got. _Daphne did tell me not to stick to firmly to the answers that me and Hermione drafted._

Fleur’s turn came up, and she smiled sweetly at all of them before turning to Cedric. “What do you intend to do after NEWTs and completion of school?”

He flushed at the full effect of her attention but still answered, “Again, my dreams are simple ones compared to anything you might expect. I hope to attain my transfiguration mastery and return, one day, to teach at Hogwarts.”

Viktor chuckled at his turn, “I admire your aspiration to teach. I hope, one day, to win Quidditch World Cup. I, also, plan to follow my mother into arithmancy. I will make her proud by gain mastery over craft.”

“I, uh,” Harry glanced at his lap, not expecting his turn to come so soon. “being a little younger than my fellow champions…” He grasped for a version of the answer he and Hermione had crafted that would feel authentic. “I haven’t really determined what I’m truly good at. I am very fortunate to have the guidance of my mentors and friends as I figure out how I can contribute to the wizarding world.”

Fleur picked up her answer quickly. “I have simple answer as I have already been offered work with Gringotts. I look forward to all zat I will learn working with greatest bank in ze world.”

Cedric looked around the room at them, “So, I guess it’s my turn to ask… Alright, how did you prepare for the first task?”

* * *

“I didn’t mean it like that, Lavender!” Ron cried out. He appeared to be pleading with her cousin for understanding that she was unwilling to give him. Daphne repressed her first instinct to defend her and instead took in the situation. 

Hermione, sitting at her work table, suppressed her laughter with a hand over her mouth. Ron and Lavender sat across from each other in the arm chairs. It left the small sofa for her and Harry. He sent her a side glance and raised his brows, trying to communicate some message. She tugged on his elbow lightly, and he led them both to sit with the arguing couple. 

“What didn’t you mean, Ron?” Harry asked as they approached.

Lavender, betraying her unhappiness in tone, replied for him. “He said he thinks Fleur Delacore is ‘an impressive witch!’”

“Not like you think!” he immediately defended himself.

She crossed her arms in a huff. Daphne, knowing her cousin well, realized that she was hiding hurt feelings beneath her anger. _I always thought the first time he hurt her, I’d have to resist the urge to curse his eyes. After my own misunderstandings, I can hardly jump to judgement._

“I agree,” Harry announced with a grin. “She’s a very impressive witch.” Lavender shot him a murderous glare, but all Daphne could take in was the charming glimmer of mischief in his eyes. 

“You agree?” She asked her faux-beau. Behind her, Hermione sounded as though she had lost her battle for composure.

“I’ve seen more than a few older witches and wizards try to push her around… Like they think that just because she’s pretty that she’s a pushover.” To her surprise, Ron was nodding in agreement with Harry’s statement. “Every time it happens, she shuts them down. If she can’t charm them, then she freezes them out. It’s amazing to watch!”

“Is that what you meant, Ron?” Lavender tried for a cold tone but, instead, sounded hopeful.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed. “I’ve never seen anyone defend against those sorts of people without drawing a wand…” Proving that he never knew when to stop talking, he rushed out. “I mean, sure she is pretty, but so are you! Hell, even Hermione can be pretty when she really decides on it!” Before she could decide on appropriate retaliation for his comment about her girlfriend, Harry reached over and swatted the back of his head. 

“Hey! What was that for?” Ron complained loudly.

Lavender, apparently deciding for forgive him, stood up. “Come on, Ron, before you get worse from Hermione.”

He obediently rose and gathered his things. “But what did I say now?”

She sighed aggrievedly and took his arm. “I’ll try to explain it to you.”

The three of them stayed silent as the couple left them behind. Once the door closed behind them, Daphne dropped her head back in frustration. “Some days, I really wonder why three of my favorite people are so fond of that boy.”

Hermione crossed to join them, and Harry switched to a chair so that they could sit together. She flashed him a grateful smile, and he winked back. “I’ll admit that Ron would do well to belt up once in a while, but he’s a good one to have at your back when it comes down to it.”

She pulled her sweet girl into a one armed embrace and relaxed into a rare moment when she was keeping no secrets. “I suppose I’ll take your word for that.” She pressed a kiss to Hermione’s temple, “but he plainly has vision issues. Anyone with eyes can see that my Hermione is lovely no matter what.”

She flushed, and the pinched look left her face. “Well, it’s good that you think so.” She gave her an adoring smile and cuddled closer. “Now, have we any new thoughts on how Skeeter is getting her information?”

“I think Viktor’s suggestion that she might be using recording crystals seems reasonable,” Daphne told them. “I’m just not sure that there’s a reasonable way to counter it if she is.” Discouraged, she hugged Hermione closer. “After her stunt at the champion’s interview yesterday, it’s only a matter of time before she starts up her attacks again.”

Harry frowned, “You don’t think she’ll go after Penelope in the press, do you?”

“Either her or Fleur,” she replied worriedly. “She already implied some vicious things after she and Roger Davis broke things off. He seemed quite willing to use her Veela heritage to excuse his own behaviour.”

“He made every wizard in Hogwarts look bad with those quotes,” he grimaced. “And then he had the nerve to accuse her of picking a fight so she could go after some other bloke.” To her surprise, he seemed indignant on the other girl’s behalf. 

“Well, we have a few ways to counteract Skeeter’s influence. We’ll just have to make sure that we use them well.” She leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. Harry and Hermione kept talking, but she let their voices wash over her as she planned for other additions to their book.

* * *

Tracey ducked into an alcove to let her least favorite year mates pass. Pansy had been quieter since she returned after the Yule Ball, but her smiles were hard and full of teeth. Everything in her said that something else would come of her anger.

The stones of the niche folded gently around her as though to cradle her in Hogwarts embrace. She nestled deeper within her protected space, but her warm and cozy spot was not hidden enough. Just as the girls stepped around the corner and should have been out of sight, they whirled as one and grinned viciously. 

Tracey tried to raise her wand in defense but her arm would not move. She strained and it only moved slightly. Their spells fired with visible slowness, and she tensed in anticipation of the curses. Instead, they bounced off a shield and Professor Moody stepped out of nowhere. She tried to breath out in relief, but the air would not exhale. 

“Tut tut, ladies,” he chided them. “Surely you know that a mudblood like this one is not worthy of your magic?” He smiled at her with a mouth full of bloody teeth. When he moved from the opposite side of the corridor, his arms extended unnaturally. 

Pansy and Millicent spoke as one, “Yes, Professor. Shall we throw her from the tower?”

WIth a sickening whirl, Tracey found herself at the window of the Astronomy Tower. She watched as her newly regrown hair drifted from her scalp to float away into the wind. Suddenly, hard hands shoved her out, and she screamed as she fell over a cliff that should not have been there. She twisted her body, mid-air, and saw her head of house staring impassively as she hurtled toward the sharp rocks.

Just before she crashed to her death, Tracey grasped and flailed awake. Her bedclothes were tangled around her and wet with sweat. She curled in on herself in distress, _Be quiet, Tracey. They can’t know that they’ve scared you. They’ll only be worse if they know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the twice a week update schedule is working well. It's giving me time to write with the longer chapters and switch to my writing style. I hope everyone is staying safe and well.


	5. Chapter 5

Minerva pursed her lips at the cluster of people in the Hogwarts staff room. Bagman brayed loudly at his own joke while Karkaroff sneered in a proxy for amusement. Hagrid stood awkwardly near Pomona and Filius, while Severus positioned himself at the perimeter of the room. _No doubt he’s hoping to avoid any interactions with the other two school heads._

It was the people missing from the meeting that caused her displeasure. While Moody skipping the meeting was probably for the best, Albus was officially the person supposed to represent Hogwarts in any review of the tournament tasks. To her relief, Crouch was also late so she could use that as an excuse to stall.

“As Mr. Crouch has not yet arrived, we will need to wait a few more moments. I realize that it is already late on a night when many of us have classes, so I appreciate your patience.” She kept her tone even and tried not to betray her own displeasure.

Bagman puffed his chest, “I can start the conversations, Minnie dear.”

She sneered at his presumption, “Given the nature of the decisions to be made, Mr. Bagman, we will wait for all of the key individuals.”

Olympe nodded in agreement, “Indeed, I have no wish to have zeese conversations twice.”

Minerva barely kept from jumping in surprise when the door swung open hard. Percy Weasley entered with a stumble, “Apologies to all… I had a difficulty with the enchantments on the door.” He flushed as they all stared at him.

Pomona smiled kindly, “Not surprising, Mr. Weasley. The enchantments are designed to keep out any students. Given the recentness of your graduation and the fact that you are not on staff at the school, your situation is a bit ambiguous.”

He shot her a grateful look, “That would explain it. Thank you, Professor.”

As he calmly reached to close the door, Minerva realized that there was no one else with him. “Mr. Weasley, where is your employer?”

“Mr. Crouch is under the weather. His last letter assured me that he had full confidence in the Headmasters, Headmistress, and Mr. Bagman to define the second task.” He looked around the room with a frown. “Where is Headmaster Dumbledore? I thought that this meeting was scheduled specifically to align with his other commitments?”

“Don’t be impertinent!” Severus barked out sharply. 

At the familiar sight of his former Professor treating him rudely, he finally showed his Gryffindor colours. He drew himself to his full height. “Given that Mr. Crouch specifically declared his faith in Headmaster Dumbledore’s judgement, I consider that question to be particularly pertinent.”

Before her colleague could embarrass himself by trying to take points from someone that was no longer a student, the door opened again. This time, it admitted the topic of their conversation. To her surprise, he looked drawn and still wore his plum colored Wizengamot robes. 

“I apologize for my tardiness,” he deliberately met her gaze. “We had a contentious discussion in chamber today, and I was needed afterward to ensure that our governing body can move forward on a few key items.”

“We understand, Albus,” Olympe spoke kindly. “Your leadership is often in high demand.”

“Well, now that we are all here,” Ludo started.

“All?” Albus looked around in puzzlement. “Where is Barty?”

“Ill,” she answered shortly. “He has assured Mr. Weasley that he has full faith in this group to complete the arrangements for the second task.”

“That explains his absence in the Wizengamot today,” he turned to Percy. “Please request that he appoint a proxy for any further absences in chamber, Mr. Weasley.” As an afterthought, he added, “And give him my best wishes in his recovery.”

“Of course, sir,” Percy agreed.

“Now,” Ludo tried again with a pointed look around the room, “that we are all here.” He paused as though expecting another argument. When he got none, he continued, “Shall we finalize the arrangements?”

He took the quiet nods for an assent, “We had already determined that the second task would be the rescue of either a treasured belonging or person from the MerVillage. I am of the opinion that a hostage rather than an item will build tension and be more in keeping with the spirit of the task. It will need to be someone dear to the champion, so, as the people that know them best, what do you recommend?”

As Minerva froze in internal horror at the idea of actual hostages, Olympe spoke up and made it clear that the idea had been in discussion for some time. “I have spoken to ze Head of Delacour family. He assures me zat his whole family supports Fleur. Her father will volunteer as hostage for ze task.”

“That won’t work,” Hagrid spoke up bashfully. “Sorry, Olympe, but the Chief of the Merfolk insists that no adult witches or wizards will be allowed into their village. They almost balked anyway until I pointed out that the tournament champions are all students.” He glanced down at the attention he got from the others in the room. “Lucky for us, merfolk don’t consider someone of age until they’ve completed their lessons or mated off.”

She nodded at that news, internally grateful. “Surely that must make hostages out of the question. After all, we could hardly ask parents to agree to us sending their children as captives into Black Lake!”

Bagman gave her a mulishly grouchy look before saying, “Now, let’s really evaluate the risk before rejecting the option.” He addressed Severus, “Have you had time to review stasis potions for our purpose.”

“I have,” he replied. “The best option is Surgi-Sleep. It was developed for use in surgical patients of fragile health. The most concerning complexity is the dosage. Too much, and the recipient’s body might shut down. In this application, not enough potion might cause them to wake and drown before they could be brought to the surface.”

Percy, seemingly forgotten by the group, spoke up. “The details of the second task were fed into the goblet with the rest of the tournament before the champions were selected.” He glanced down at a parchment in his hand. “It says that the champion would retrieve someone or thing of extreme emotional significance, ‘such that the loss would cause them great personal distress.’ We are magically bound by that criteria and no other concern over tension and drama should be considered.” He glared at Bagman.

She sent him a proud look before addressing the room, “Well, Mr. Potter has very few of his parent’s things. The loss of any memento from them would certainly cause him great distress.”

Olympe nodded quietly, “The Delacour family has several heirlooms that would likely suit.”

She looked to Pomona and nearly groaned when she shook her head, “I can’t think of anything would really matter so much to Mr. Diggory. He is notoriously generous with his things.”

Karkaroff, silent up to this point, nodded, “Viktor is same. Family and honor are key to him, not such pettiness as possessions.”

“Seems that we’re back to hostages,” Bagman announced smugly. “They will need to be school age to fit the merfolk’s requirement. Do we have any suggestions?” 

“Fleur has a sister. She is rather young for such a risk, but Head Delacour would likely allow it,” Olympe told them reluctantly.

“Harry’s the last of the Potter line, his only family are muggles on his mother’s side,” she reminded them.

“Well, there’s no need to over complicate this!” Bagman declared. “We should just use their Yule Ball dates. Afterall, great personal distress is what’s required. I remember what young love felt like. A risk to that will feel quite distressing!”

Filius spoke up at that, “I believe Mademoiselle Delacour and Mr. Davies had a falling out.”

He shrugged, “So we’ll substitute her sister.”

“You do realize that one of the Yule dates is heir to one of the wealthiest ancient houses in Britain? We have already established that this is not without risk.” Severus was plainly unhappy with this suggestion.

“Bah,” Bagman dismissed. “Life is not without risk!” He held up a hand to forestall further protests. “I’ll write to each of their parents seeking permission. We can hardly be accused of negligence if their guardians agreed.”

 _Seems the criticisms after the first task struck their mark after all. I only hope it was not too little and too late!_ She kept her face impassive despite her thoughts. To her surprise, Albus nodded along with him. 

“I think that is as much as we can do tonight,” he told them. “Severus, what would you need to prepare for these specific hostages?”

“As all but one are Hogwarts students, Madame Pomphrey can assist me in calculating the proper dosages,” he respectfully addressed Albus. “I will need similar information for Miss Delacour.”

“I will arrange for it,” Olympe told him.

“Excellent!” Bagman rubbed his hands together, “We have a plan!”

Percy seemed as unhappy as the rest of them with the results of the meeting, but dutifully told them, “I’ll write to Mr. Crouch.”

“Very good,” Albus waved a hand, and the door opened. “Shall we all retire for much needed rest?”

* * *

Harry felt awkward pulling on the form fitting wet-suit Hermione had gotten him for Christmas. Deep down, he doubted her assurances about her father getting it on discount, but he was grateful to have had someone else out there supporting him. Winky had dutifully taken his measurements so he knew the snug fit was as it should be, but he was glad he could put his robes on over it for the walk to the lake.

“Blimey, Harry,” Dean walked over to where he was tugging and stretching in the tight fitting suit. “You taking up diving? I’d think you had enough hobbies already!”

“It’s for the tournament, you dolt,” Ron told him as the other boy laughed at his own joke.

Harry considered the rest of the wet suit gear that Dr. Granger had found. “Neville, have you ever used gillyweed?”

His friend’s eyes widened at the items scattered across his bed, “Not for what you’re planning.” He turned back to open his trunk and removed a book. A flip of pages preceded him informing them, “According to this, gillyweed enables swimming underwater by providing gills and webbing to hands and feet… so you may want to skip the boots and gloves.” He frowned, “What’s with the weird suit anyway?”

“It’s a muggle wet-suit. Hermione’s dad helped pick it out. The second task is to retrieve something from the Black Lake…” He shrugged and gathered the rest of his supplies. “We just want to make sure my plan is going to work while I still have time to change it.” On Neville’s guidance, he left the gloves and put on his normal boots. 

“Mind if I tag along?” Dean asked. “Not every day you get to a see a bloke grow gills.”

“Sure, I guess,” he muttered from beneath the robe he was pulling on for the walk out. “You want to come too, Neville?”

“Yeah!” He answered eagerly. “I’ve not had a chance to really help you with the tournament. It’ll be nice to at least see you practice.”

The four boys tromped out of the castle, picking up a few other curiosity seekers along the way. The extra attention make Harry want to quit and find another day, but he had promised Remus so he pressed on. They were met at the lake by Hermione, Colin, Daphne and Tracey. 

His Slytherin friends laughed at the sight of his entourage, “And to think that I told Tracey you might not like an audience for this little test!”

He rolled his eyes at the teasing but dutifully stepped forward to drop a kiss on Daphne’s knuckles. “I think Hogwarts needs a few winter sports. This lot seems in need of entertainment if watching me freeze in the lake is something they want to do more than once.”

The boys gamely accepted his teasing as they walked the rest of the way to the edge of the lake. He shrugged out of his robe and passed that to Daphne. With his wand in his hand, he glanced down at himself. “Is there a good way to carry my wand with all this? I usually just use the loop in my robe sleeves.”

Hermione studied the dragon skin belt and pouch that he had cinched around his waist. As he walked, it shifted and slung lower on his hips that he intended, but it felt secure so he left it. She chewed on her bottom lip a moment, a sure sign that she was evaluating an idea. With a nod of satisfaction, she pulled the elastic from her hair.

“Hand me your wand,” she instructed. She twisted a loop into the elastic and tucked the narrow end through it. “Ok, that works.”

As she handed him back his wand, her hair whipped in the wind. She stepped close, and the sweet smelling curls thrashed into his face. She ignored all that in favor of fussing and tugging on his belt. Blinded by her hair, he thought he heard Daphne laughing.

She tamed her hair with her hands as she stepped back. “Thanks, Hermione,” he told her looking down at his belt. While he examined her simple solution for a wand holder on his belt, her girlfriend transfigured a small stick and stabbed it through the hand held knot of hair on her head. 

“Harry, mate,” Ron broke in reminding him of their audience. “How are you going to cast under water anyway? Transfigurations are all we know how to do without an incantation.”

He hunched his shoulders a little at that question, but Daphne was undiscouraged. “He’s been practicing defensive transfigurations, so at least he’ll have that.” She eyed the rest of his gear. The expanding pouch and matching belt had been her gift, but he knew she hadn’t seen the rest of his gear. “Is that a knife on your leg?” 

He nodded, “It’s a diving knife, so you can get free if something tangles you up.”

“Hmm…” She looked back at Hermione and Tracey, “I think we’ve found ourselves another runes project.”

“Thanks, Daphne…” he smiled gratefully at the girl that had rapidly become his friend in her own right.

“You don’t even know what we’re going to do yet,” she protested.

“Hah!” He grinned. “With you three on it, whatever you come up with will be brilliant!”

He glanced back at the group of people that were waiting to watch him grow gills and throw himself in the lake. The Creevey brothers had clustered over to one side and were checking something through the viewfinder of Colin’s camera. Ron was attempting to strangle Dean with his discarded robes. Oddly, Neville was staring down at his clutch of fresh gillyweed and mumbling to himself.

“Something on your mind, Neville?” He asked.

“If what I read was correct, you can use a small dose to give you the effects for a few minutes, but the most you can get from one ingestion is an hour.” He pulled one unpleasant looking strand from the bundle in his hand. “This should be enough for the first try, but I think you should carry some extra on the day of the task.”

He nodded seeing the sense in his suggestion, “The clue says I’ll only get an hour to complete the task, but I don’t want to risk getting caught underwater without being a able to breath.”

“Oi!” He looked up at Ron’s call. His friend was flushed from wrestling their roommate but grinned happily. “D’you ever figure out what your supposed to get?”

“Not yet,” he sighed. “Guess there will be some improvisation to this task just like last time.”

“Well, no plan survives first contact with the enemy anyway…” Hermione told him.

Ron looked at her with surprise. “That’s pretty clever, Hermione, but I never figured you for agreeing to let Harry improvise like that.”

“Since when have we ever had a choice on that, Ron?” she asked.

“Never,” Harry told her. “Are we ready? I want to get this over with and beg Winky for some hot cocoa!”

They all positioned themselves around where he planned to enter the lake. Harry passed Daphne his glasses, and he heard her murmur something to Hermione. _Gryffindors charge ahead,_ he reminded himself and stuffed the string of gillyweed into his mouth.

Just as he turned to ask Neville how long it would take to take effect, he gasped for air. _Gah! It feels like someone’s trying to smother me!_ He rushed for the lake and felt the shock of cold water rushing into his suit. Suddenly frightened, all his instincts screamed at him in conflict. He recognized one as foreign, _Get in the water! You need the water!_

He blessed Uncle Algie’s training as he realized it was the gillyweed’s influence. He followed that strange impulse and dove his head straight into the water. To his relief, the feeling of suffocation faded instantly. Rather than leave the shallows, he sat down in the sticky lake bottom. His feet and hands were chilled but not unbearably cold and, within the wet-suit, he was comfortable.

He stretched his legs out and moved his feet like flippers. The webs between his toes caught the water, and Harry began to understand that this could actually work. _We’ve got a few things to work out, but this is a good plan._ He let himself appreciate the sway of the little plants around him and wished that he had brought his glasses under so he could really see.

After a few minutes of letting his mind drift, he felt the webs absorb into his hands and feet. He pushed himself up and broke the surface of the water. Unlike before, the smothered feeling was gone. He grimaced as the muddy lake bottom squished coldly between his toes.

He approached the blur of black robed students on the shore. Once he stepped from the water, the cold Scottish wind whirled around him. It made his feet, hands and face instantly numb, but his suit kept the rest of him blissfully warm.

Ron, Dean and Colin called over each other with excited questions. He glanced toward the noise and grinned with delight. “That was brilliant!” he cried as a sudden light flashed before his eyes.

* * *

The first day of class for the week always brought a sense of excitement for Hermione. It meant a new set of things to learn and do. She sat quietly at the Gryffindor table and enjoyed the time before her fellow students would bring their chaos to join her. 

Harry stepped into the Great Hall with her beautiful Daphne on his arm and Viktor on his other side. As he laughed at something from their conversation, she felt a flicker of misery. _I guess I understand what Daphne was upset about… I shouldn’t feel jealous that Harry can walk about with her on his arm when he’s been making it possible for us to keep this secret._

She heaved a sigh and gave Viktor a half-hearted wave. When the first vibrations of the post owls rumbled through her chest, she looked up for Hedwig. Instead, a nondescript post owl landed before her. She promptly took the short card and a copy of the Daily Prophet. It was only as she offered the owl a nibble of ham from her plate that Hedwig landed to her right.

Harry dropped into the seat before his owl with a yawn, “Good Morning, Hermione.”

She forced a smile that failed to convince him and focused on cooing to Hedwig. “Good Morning.”

“Are you alright?” he asked her quietly.

His care made her feel even worse about her bout of jealousy. Unable to bear lying to him, she only said, “Nothing urgent. We’ll talk later?”

He nodded and patted her hand, “Ok”

Ready for a distraction, she flipped over the card that had been delivered with a copy of the Prophet. The heavy paper had a faintly green and somehow three dimensional watermark of grass waving in an unseen breeze. She focused through it to find an elegant script message addressed to her.

> Miss Granger,
> 
> Thank you for taking the time and effort to write in a question to my new column. I have heard many wonderful things about you from my daughters, niece and family friends. I hope, one day soon, to make your acquaintance in person.
> 
> Until that day, please know that I welcome your questions and support of my efforts to share my knowledge and traditions.
> 
> Blessings be upon you,
> 
> Laurel Greengrass

The gracious note reminded her of Daphne and dissipated some of her unhappiness. Instead of her normal habit, Hermione opened the paper eagerly to the middle where questions and advice normally resided. She was rewarded with a small column titled: 

> On the Glory of Magic - by L Greengrass
> 
> _On the Glory of Magic is a new question and answer column that will discuss magical history, tradition and customs. To submit a question, send your owl to The Daily Prophet office addressed to OGM._
> 
> **-I am a first generation witch and Hogwarts student that is still learning the customs of the magical world. One of my friends is missing classes to go home for an** **Imbolg** **celebration this week. She has graciously taught me much about this traditional holiday, but:**
> 
> **1) Is there a way for me to commemorate** **Imbolg** **at Hogwarts?**
> 
> **2) Why are witches and wizards forced to choose between their education and their traditions in this way? — Many thanks for your guidance, HG**
> 
> Dear HG
> 
> I would suggest that you have made the first foray into honoring our traditions by making an effort to learn more about them. Our traditions reflect and venerate our deep and beautiful relationship with magic. Imbolg is a celebration of the home, hearth, and the renewal of the earth after winter.
> 
> Since the traditions are primarily based around the home, it was difficult to find a traditional way for your commemoration at school. A review of The Travelers Guide to the Glory of Magic, sadly out of print, suggests that those spending Imbolg away from home meditate before a hearth fire on the promise of the sun and the lengthening days that come with spring. There are also traditional feast recipes for Imbolg and every other celebration in The Witch’s Kitchen by Matilda Wormwood.
> 
> As for your second question, I have no easy answer. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry adjusted its calendar to the current model under the leadership of Euphraxia Mole. At the time, concern for the Statute of Secrecy was raised due to the very large Hogwarts classes. Apparently, so many students going home outside of the other British school schedules was noticed by muggle neighbors, and the high spirited youths created a good bit of mischief. (They were accustomed to being able to use magic without reticence at school.) 
> 
> Since then, the underage magical trace has been implemented to prevent carelessness among children, and Platform 9 3/4 enables the mass flooing of magical children to and from the Express without muggle observation. The changes, combined with the tragically smaller recent classes of Hogwarts students, should have allowed for a renewal of our traditional calendar. However, this change has not yet built the support that it needs in order to be adopted. Until then, traditional families, like that of your friend, must balance celebrating our feast days without the children that make them a joy or requesting a special leave of absence and accepting the additional school work that comes with it. — May the blessings of all magic be upon your studies. -LG

Hermione looked up to see that the other sections of her paper had been divided between Neville, Ron and Ginny. Content to let them have it, she quickly jotted down the names of the two books that Madame Greengrass had included in her answer. Harry looked over her shoulder at the note.

“Is that a magical cookbook?” he asked tapping her note.

“Witch’s Kitchen? I’m not sure, exactly. It seems to have a few traditional recipes and holiday details that I’m interested in though,” she gave him a quizzical look as he would not usually read over her shoulder.

“Oh,” he bit his bottom lip in a reflection of her habit. “If you get a copy, may I look at it? I’m actually a decent cook in the muggle way. Might be interesting to know more about magical cooking.”

“Sure,” she smiled at him and tried to imagine him cooking. _Guess if he can manage a functional potion with Professor Snape glowering and Malfoy attempting sabotage then I shouldn’t be surprised that he can make a basic meal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's not tedious. I'm actually having fun with the idea of Harry over-preparing for an ordeal for once.   
> If the muse cooperates, I ought to get pretty ahead of my updates this weekend. TS Hanna has me stuck inside.


	6. Chapter 6

The day after her Imbolg celebration, Harry waited for Daphne with Hermione in her study room. He practiced drawing his wand from its sturdy loop in his dragon belt and focused on transfiguring the things his best friend threw at him into crystalline shields. They were beautiful but brittle. For all the times that he attempted to tweak the spell for true defensive use, they kept breaking under her onslaught of spells.

“At least we’re both getting better at our shield spells?” she offered when the last one had shattered in an explosion of glittering shrapnel.

Discouraged, he slumped into a chair and pointed out, “I can’t cast a shield charm underwater. I won’t be able to speak.”

Undeterred, she replied, “Well your crystal shields are good for one use and the shards will behave differently underwater anyway.”

Seeking any subject change, he reminded her, “You never did tell me what was bothering you on Monday.” He patted the arm of the vacant sofa in invitation. “I know you’re avoiding it. Come and tell me what’s going on.”

She let out a gusty sigh and flopped into her spot on the sofa. “I didn’t tell you because I feel foolish.”

He smirked at her teasingly, “Well now I really want to know.”

She dropped her head to rest on the back of the couch and murmured, “I’m not sure you really do…”

Only then did he really get worried, “Hermione, if I did something to upset you, you would tell me, right?”

“Harry, I…” she leaned forward. “You didn’t upset me. I upset myself, and I’m embarrassed by it.” With that admission, she looked meaningfully at him like he was supposed to know exactly what that meant. 

“I’m still confused,” he said honestly.

When she laughed, it should have frustrated him, but he was only relieved by the happy sound. “I can’t say that I understand it either. Shall we just say that I miss being able to walk the halls with my girlfriend, even though it’s not a privilege I ever had?”

He nodded, “I guess I understand that. Secrets aren’t easy to keep, I think…” He tried to organize his thoughts, “Not just because we have to worry about what other people see, expect the unexpected, but because it’s not in our nature. We want to be able to tell our friends the truth and talk about what makes us happy or sad or confused…”

She crossed the space between thier chairs to give him a side hug. “Yeah, I guess that’s a big part of it.” She sat back down. “Thanks, Harry, for being a good friend.”

Just as he smiled and blushed at her compliment, the door opened to admit their third confidant. Daphne crossed in the room and quickly cast the privacy spells behind her. She was flushed with excitement and rushed over to them. “I know what the goal of the second task will be!”

He gasped, “What? How?”

She sat on the sofa and leaned toward them. “Ludo Bagman sent my father a letter requesting permission for me to participate in the second task. It could only be that I’ll be what you’ll sorely miss.”

“No,” came out of his mouth, surprising even him. At the sound, he felt more confident. “No, that can’t be it. The poem says whatever it is will be gone for good if I don’t complete the task. They wouldn’t do that to you. I’m certain the Headmaster would not put your life that much into my hands.”

“So,” she drew out her word teasingly. “You admit that you would sorely miss me if I was gone?” She plainly meant him to laugh, but instead the reality of what she suggested struck him. His heart slammed in his chest.

Panic surged through him. He shoved up from his chair. He faced his friends on the couch but barely saw them past the whirlwind of his fear. “No! I won’t let this happen! I will forfeit this bloody contest before I let anyone die because of me!”

He stumbled toward the door but stopped as his friends crushed him in an embrace. “Harry, Harry! No!” He could barely hear them over his own rapid breathing. 

He struggled futilely for a moment and cursed his shorter stature. The forced stillness seemed to reset his mind. Remembering his lessons, he slowed his breathing and registered the smells around him. _Daphne’s shampoo, that girly smell I can never identify. What do I hear? The murmuring of my friends, I’ve upset them… What do I feel? Hermione’s arms crushed around my waist. Daphne pressing bodily into my torso. They don’t seem to realize that I’ve stopped moving…_

He lifted an arm to wrap around Daphne’s waist and laced the fingers of his other hand through Hermione’s. “It’s alright. I’m calmer. I…” They shifted from stopping him to hugging him. Daphne tucked her head into his shoulder, and Hermione pressed hers into his shoulder blades. 

He relaxed into them and felt a twist of guilt when he realized that his best friend was trembling. “I scared you. I’m sorry… I won’t… I won’t go off and do that without talking to you, I promise.” 

Daphne struck him on the shoulder. “You won’t do it at all!” She drew back to look at him. To his shock, her blue eyes swam with tears. “Harry, you could lose your magic or die if you forfeit. You have to consider your life!”

“I’m trying to consider yours,” he told her softly. 

Hermione sniffed loudly from behind him, twisting the blade of guilt already in his heart. “Let’s all go sit down? Please?” she murmured huskily.

He let out a slow breath and agreed. Rather than collapsing in his favorite chair, the girls maneuvered him between them on the sofa. “I’m sorry that I overreacted,” he told them both. “I just hate the idea of them dragging you into this, and I’m scared that something bad will happen.”

“Harry, we’ve done a bit of research on the mermaid song and their language. I don’t think the end of the hour means that what’s taken will be gone forever,” Hermione tucked her head into his shoulder as she spoke. “I think it just means that you won’t be able to retrieve it.”

He frowned, “I know I don’t read much poetry, but how do you get that from ‘too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back’?”

“We think it’s a bit of… poetic license… that the merpeople took with the song.” Daphne picked up the explanation. “It, in that line, is not referring to me. Instead, it’s referring to your time or chance to rescue me.”

“I want to believe that, Daphne, but how can you know for sure?” He sank into the cushions and allowed their closeness and warmth to sooth away the last of his panic. “I also want to believe that the Headmaster wouldn’t put you at risk, but…” He trailed off, unable to give voice to the reasons why he doubted.

“Harry, the letter asking for permission to include me in the task came from Ludo Bagman. It struck my father as odd because Crouch is the official ministry representative for the tournament.” She twisted a bit to face him. “That’s why he waited to discuss it with me before responding. I went over the entirety of our research with him and my mother. They agree with our interpretation.”

“You can’t tell me that your parents agreed to put you under Black Lake?” He asked in shock. 

She flushed, “Not initially, but I convinced them to let me do it.”

“Why?” He asked her, truly bewildered. “I know the rest of the world thinks we are a couple, but I’m just your girlfriend’s friend. Why would you agree to do this? Why would you want to?”

“Oh, Harry,” she smiled at him. “By now, aren’t we friends in our own right?” While he nodded bashfully, she met Hermione’s gaze across from him. “The other thing I think you’ve missed in all this is that you mean just as much to my girlfriend as I do.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted. “I don’t resent that, Harry, anymore than she resents how much Tracey means to me.” When he settled back to let her finish, she smiled at him. “I want Hermione to be happy. And she is happiest when we’re happy and well… the both of us.”

His best friend nodded in agreement, “That’s certainly true.”

As much as he hated the topic of conversation, Harry had never felt so loved. “I want Hermione to be happy too…”

“Well, now that we all agree on the important part of this conversation,” Daphne said with a laugh. “Let’s see what other consensus we can attain.” They chuckled with her. “In order to keep your magic, you have to make an effort in the contest.” He nodded mostly to make her happy. “And the best chance you have for the second task is if we know what you are retrieving, agreed?”

This time he failed to respond, but Hermione chimed in, “Knowing the variables ought to give him the best chance, certainly.”

“What if I fail?” he asked in a small voice. “What if I don’t rescue you?”

“Harry,” her hand felt chilly when she turned his face towards her. “I believe in you.” He sighed, but she kept going. “This will work.”

With Daphne on one side and Hermione on the other, he knew he had lost the argument. He went limp into the couch as he gave in. “Ok, what do you have in mind?”

* * *

The dry winter air numbed the tip of her nose, but Daphne was too eager for quiet time with Hermione to care. She waited impatiently in the shadow of the quidditch stands. Her trip out into the cold was ostensibly to watch Harry fly, but she had every intention of enjoying the time with her girl.

She spied a navy blue clad figure walking along the path and caught her breath with delight. _She wore the winter cloak I bought her. She looks so wonderful!_ Her Yule gift had been a fashionable cloak edged with the feathers of a thunderbird. The enchantments on it kept the wearer warm and dry. _Seeing it on her, it’s more than worth what I spent on it._

She cast a notice-me-not just as her girl stepped up to her. “Hello, beautiful,” she whispered softly.

“Hello yourself,” Hermione murmured back. She drew her own wand to layer over her spell then stepped forward to press their chilled lips together. 

She accepted the kiss with a grateful sigh. “Mmm, I’ve missed you.”

Her girlfriend chuckled as she slipped an arm under her cloak to embrace her. “How can you have missed me when we spend so much time together? In the library? In class?”

She trailed her lips along her graceful cheekbone and ran her tongue along her ear. “I can hardly do this in Ancient Runes, now can I?” she whispered. Hermione must have agreed because she only hummed and then kissed her deeply. 

Daphne lost track of time in her arms and startled when she heard Lavender’s voice, “Well I only walked out with you to look for my cousin anyway. You’re welcome to grab a broom and run some drills with Harry. I don’t mind.” Her brittle and unhappy tone gave a clue about her companion.

Ron’s voice confirmed her suspicion, “Alright! I’ll catch up with you later!” He sounded oblivious and smacked a kiss. She rolled her eyes a the sound of his footsteps thundering past them.

Begrudgingly giving up on time alone, she quickly cancelled the spells on them and hoped they could blame their ruddy cheeks on the cold. Stepping back, she was adjusting the lined hood on Hermione’s cloak when Lavender made to walk past them and check the stands. “So, if you fold the trim out to frame your face, it’s just as warm but creates a little more visual interest.”

As she had expected, the sound of her voice drew her cousin to them. “Hello, you two!” She joined them in the shadows. “Wouldn’t you be warmer in the sunshine?”

Hermione smiled at her roommate, “I think you’re right. We didn’t quite intend to linger here.” Changing the subject, she asked, “Did I hear Ron walking with you?”

She nodded, “He decided to grab a broom and join Harry.” The three girls walked up to the stands and cast cushioning charms before sitting down. “Hermione,” Lavender angled to face her. “He’s your friend… does it ever drive you mad that all he wants to talk about is quidditch and chess?”

She laughed at the question along with Hermione, who answered, “There are dozens of things about Ronald Weasley that drive me round the bend. But yes, his shallow pool of interests is one of them.”

Daphne saw a chance to solve a mystery. “Hermione, I can’t consider myself an expert in the things you look for in a friend, but we came together over common interests and the fun of learning something new…” She tried not to blush at her slip of the tongue and pressed on, “How on earth do you and Ron stay friends?”

She apparently was unoffended by the question because she laughed again, “Ron and I first became friends because of Harry, and I’ll confess some days, even now, I wonder if we would stay friends without some really simple things, like house and year, in common…” Her eyes tracked the two boys in the air, “But Ron’s what my mum would call a foul weather friend. We may fight over stupid and petty things, but he’ll always be there if I really need him.”

“How can you say that after how he treated Harry with the tournament selection?” she flinched at the shrill sound of her own voice with that question.

Thankfully, Hermione still took no offense. “He botched that one up to be sure, but it was, in part, because he let his mouth run off with him. And because he didn’t really understand the danger until the first task.” She drew a breath to question that statement, but her girlfriend continued. “I know that, to us, the risk was obvious. But for Ron, this was a chance for glory. He didn’t consider the dangers until he was faced with them directly.”

Lavender shook her head in dismay. “I suppose I can see how, with him, the whole thing would have seemed glamorous up to that moment.” She sighed, and her eyes tracked him in the air. “I guess I just wonder if I can keep going with someone that bores me in a conversation…”

She sat upright at that admission, “Lavender? Are you thinking of breaking it off with him?”

Hermione clapped her hands over her ears, “I can’t be a part of this conversation! He’ll never forgive me!”

Ignoring her girlfriend for a moment, she leaned across her to press her cousin, “Well? What’s all this about anyway?”

Lavender threw her hands up in frustration, “I don’t know! I just… I just wonder if he and I should have kept it up after Yule… We had a grand time at the ball, really… but I don’t know if we’ll be able to stay friends if we coast along much further.” She sighed, “Ron gets awfully sharp when you hurt his pride.”

Hermione’s hands had drifted back down from her ears. She patted Lavender’s hand in comfort. “He can get that way in the moment, but he always regrets it. You shouldn’t let that decide who you’ll be with.”

Her cousin sighed, “It’s not just that…” She arched a brow at the sheepish look on Lavender’s face. “It’s barely a week to Valentine’s day… How can I be thinking of breaking things off with my first real boyfriend?”

* * *

The farm outside of Dufftown was dark and eerie. The clouds covered over the minimal moon, and the wind whistled between the greenhouses. Only someone looking very hard would have seen the slim shadow creeping along the broken glass.

A whisper, only slightly out of place, prefaced the lift and dance of the glass shards on the ground. The pieces came together seamlessly and took their place within their frame. The shadow moved on.

Albus Dumbledore smiled to himself at the sight and made his way toward the cozy looking barn. Though the squib owners of the farm were distant cousins, it was not them he had come to see. _Best they are kept as much in the dark as possible about their newest guest._

He dropped his disillusionment charm mere seconds before he wrapped sharply on Remus’s door. His former student opened it quickly, obviously not expecting that the next person coming to his home would knock. To Albus’s pleasure, he lowered his wand at the sight of him but did not put it away entirely. 

“Good evening, Remus,” he said as though he had not arrived unannounced in the middle of the night. He stepped through the door into the invitingly warm space. Behind him a black dog followed sniffing at his feet. It gave alternating whines and growls. He reached down to pat the animal. “It is confusing, isn’t it? We so often do not know who to trust.”

“That is very true,” Remus acknowledged. “Would you like to give me a reason to trust that you are who you appear to be?”

He nodded at that, the former professor in him pleased at the simple question. “That is one of the reasons why you made a good Defense teacher, Remus. I regretted that you could not remain.” He thought for a moment and then stated, “I do so wish that I could have seen, first hand, the vision of Severus in Augusta Longbottom’s dreadful vulture hat. Sadly, I doubt that either would indulge me in a live recreation.”

The guardedness of the werewolf fell away, and the man’s gaunt face brightened with a smile. “It was a sight to behold! I could give you the memory if you like?”

The door clicked behind him, and the dog melted away into a mischievous looking man. “Old Snivelous in a what sort of hat? Remus, what did you do?”

He smiled and made himself comfortable in a chair beside the fire as the Remus answered, “I did nothing beyond capture a boggart and teach my students to defend themselves. It seems that Professor Snape is a terror to Frank Longbottom’s boy. His solution was quite amusing.”

Sirius settled himself onto the rug while Remus gestured toward the kitchen area. “Would you care for some tea or something stronger?”

“No, thank you,” he answered. “I think the company will be refreshing enough.”

His host nodded and joined them. “Was there anything particular that brought you here this evening?”

He sighed, “There were several things, actually.” Knowing these men, he got to his first point. “Remus, I would like to apologize to you for any hurt Ms. Skeeter’s coverage of my staffing decisions has caused you. While your employers are aware of your status, I know that others would find it disconcerting.” He winced internally at his own understatement. “I hope that you have not been harmed by her attempts to undermine me.”

“I’ll admit that some people have been less welcoming in the wizarding side of Dufftown, but most of them already knew me and seem to have decided that I am no threat,” his comment was a relief.

“I am glad to hear that,” he forced a smile. 

“Rumor is that the Wizengamot may press for an audit of Hogwarts staff and student scores?” Remus’s question was an unwelcome reminder of Ms. Skeeter’s influence.

“That is something I will have to agree to, but I am hoping to use it to prevent a more unpleasant law from passing,” he told them. “There are some that want the Ministry to be able to place teachers at Hogwarts. I am hoping that, if I agree to the audit, I can be seen as transparent and cooperative.”

“The ministry hiring teachers for Hogwarts?” Sirius spoke up. “Given some of the people they hire for major departments, I would hate to see who they would place there.”

“I quite agree,” he nodded. “I have made a few missteps in hiring, to be sure, but I trust my own judgement with our students far more than I do Cornelius’s or the Wizengamot.”

“Hah!” the bitterness in Sirius’s laugh saddened but did not surprise him. “There aren’t many things I would trust the Wizengamot with… perhaps the care of a stray grindylow, but certainly not anything of real importance.”

“And that brings me to the other thing I have been needing to speak with you about, now that you are home,” he said softly. “Sirius, you must be very cautious if you seek out Harry on school grounds. I know that you wish to see him, and he wishes to see you. But if you are caught, there will be no grand rescue by time turner this time. I fear that losing you at this juncture in his life would do Harry great harm.”

His impetuous former student ran restless fingers through his hair. This was plainly not something he wanted to hear. “Albus, I understand your concern for Harry and share it, but I had my run of the school last year with no one the wiser. I am sure I can manage a few visits without the threat of dementors hanging over.”

“Last year, Alastor Moody was not the defense teacher. He was your mentor, can you be sure he was unaware of your animagus form?” he tried to keep Sirius from getting defensive but needed him to heed his warning.

“Yes,” Sirius said shortly. “I’m sure. Moody was a stickler for the law. If he had known, he would have made me register at the least. I was careful about keeping it from him.” He got up and began to pace. “Maybe a few minutes alone with old Mad-Eye wouldn’t be a bad thing. Surely he would listen once he realized that I never got a trial.”

Albus shook his head sadly, “Your lack of a trial was not some grand conspiracy or even a true oversight.” Suddenly, he had the full attention of both his hosts. “Your grandfather worked to ensure that you did not receive a trial. With Regulus dead, you were his only direct heir. He was certain that you were guilty and feared that the Wizengamot would force him to suspend the Black seat if it became official.”

At the news, Sirius dropped back to the rug with a boneless thud. “He knew? Why not disown me then?”

“I can’t be sure on that score. Arcturus and I were not friends,” he looked at him with regret. “It’s possible that he did not want to be seen as disloyal to the Death Eater cause. I am sorry that I don’t have something comforting to tell you about your family.”

Remus grasped his shoulder in support and said, “Harry and I are his family now. The only family he needs.”

“That’s right,” Sirius agreed. “And as Harry’s godfather, I would like know how in the name of Merlin he got entered into a tournament for adults?”

He flinched at the question, “I’m not entirely sure, but I suspect that his name was entered using something torn from a history of magic essay.”

“Binns’ office never has been properly secured,” Remus grumbled.

“Well, what have you done to mitigate the danger the tournament poses?” He asked.

The question hit his conscious like an accusation, but he accepted the merit of it. “Unfortunately, most factors of the tournament were entered into the Goblet before we opened it for selections. The enchantments are set to ensure that the tasks are designed independently of the champions identified.”

Neither men looked pleased by that news, but they allowed him to continue. “Fortunately, Miss Granger and several hand selected allies have been working with Harry to ensure that he can meet each task prepared.” 

“We’re aware of Hermione’s work, and I’ve been able to consult with Harry a bit on the second task now that we are regularly communicating.” Remus comment pleased him.

“I’m glad of that,” he told them. “Working with you will be good for him. In fact, I think it is good for you both.”

“Yes,” Sirius said curtly. “It’s good enough to get him prepared to meet the tasks as designed, but what about the grand conspiracy that got him in the tournament itself.” He shoved his hands through his messy hair. “I know that Hermione tells herself it could be a student fan that wanted to see him compete, but we all know that is unlikely. Tell me the truth, Albus. How dangerous are the next two tasks?”

He nodded at the question, “That is the crux of the issue, I think. The tasks were designed to allow us to bring back the tournament. As such, they were intended to be challenging but not deadly. However… they were designed for students near to taking their NEWTs. As talented as Harry is, he has not yet started his OWL year.”

When they only nodded in agreement, he went on, “Add to that the question, why this? If the intent was only to put Harry at risk or even to discredit him, there were simpler ways… Something deeper is at play, and I must admit I do not yet know what that is.”

Sirius stared up at him. His former student looked haunted by more than dementors even though that would have been enough to destroy most others. “If my godson dies through this, I will get justice. I won’t fail him the way I failed James.”

His heart stuttered in fear at the vision of the prophecy fulfilled in Voldemort’s favor. “He won’t die, Sirius,” his words were meant to reassure them all. Albus tried to make himself believe them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early - I hope everyone is having a good week.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry knew that the whole school expected him to come up with some grand gesture for Valentine’s Day. Sometimes he cursed the spectacle he and Hermione had made of inviting Daphne to the Yule Ball. _Now the whole wizarding world is watching us on major romantic days… So much attention destroys our ability to sneak around, which was the whole point of her and I pretending to be a couple in the first place!_

He sighed in frustration and, despite the early hour, got up to dress. He was deliberately avoiding most of the boys in his house after several of them had approached him for advice on romantic plans for Valentines. _The fact that it falls on a_ _Hogsmeade_ _weekend means that they are all going to try for some date idea or another._

He pushed his worries aside to complete his mental exercises under the steamy spray of the shower, but his reflections met him again at the mirror. He had kept their plans for the village trip simple, with Gladrags first on the list at Daphne’s insistence. _The idea of clothes shopping sounds awful, but at least I’ll have Viktor to keep me company._ He grabbed what he needed from the room and headed downstairs, snickering a little to see that only Neville had begun to stir. 

“Morning, Fred, George,” he told the two boys that were busily casting on the bottom stair of the boy’s staircase. “What are you working on this morning?”

“Harry, Harry,” one of the twins looped an arm around his shoulders. “If we told you, we would just have to obliviate you…”

“And,” the other picked up, “Since we’ve only ever practiced that particular spell on each other…”

“We’re not sure that we remember how!” the two of them finished their joke in unison and erupted in happy guffaws.

He laughed along with them for a moment then decided to head to breakfast. _I’m not sure I want to know about their prank in advance. It could get me into trouble with them or someone else._

He sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione. The Hall was nearly deserted at this hour, but he was unsurprised to see that she had beat him to breakfast. “Good Morning, Hermione. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Morning Harry,” she said without enthusiasm. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Alright, Hermione?” he asked with concern. “You seem unlike yourself.”

She gave a subtle scan for listening ears before turning to face him. “I’m just having a rough morning. Valentine’s is supposed to so romantic, but I’ve never quite understood why. When I said as much last night, Lavender and Parvati…” She sighed, “They acted like they pitied me. Parvati even went so far as to say that she understood because she doesn’t have a date today either.”

He picked a few breakfast selections half-heartedly. “I’m sorry… I felt like such a pretender the past week. All the guys were asking me for help with their dates, but I could hardly say that I knew even less than them about what to do.”

She bumped his shoulder with hers, “Don’t sell yourself short. You can be very creative when you need to be but planning their dates is not when you need to be.”

“Thanks,” he started to ask her another question, but Hedwig swooped in to land before them. “Good morning, girl. You’re early this morning.” He smiled as she held his letter out to him distractedly while leaning in to the strokes that Hermione gave her.

He felt a tap on his leg and gave her an inquisitorial look. She flicked her gaze to the table top, and, hoping he was interpreting the signal correctly, he slid one hand into his lap. She dropped a folded parchment into his hand. When he pulled it up to the table, he recognized it as a piece of their treated parchment. 

He pulled out his wand and a self inking quill. Before he tapped the parchment to write the plainly visible message, he saw a few lines of poetry in his friend’s elegant script. With a tap of his wand, the words faded away and he began to write in his own distinctive hand.

> Daphne,
> 
> I know that today is supposed to be a special day for love, but I hope that I manage to tell you how important you are every day. You…

He dropped his quill and turned to Hermione, “I’m not sure what else to say.”

She looked over his shoulder, “This I why I like poetry… You’ve got a good start. It doesn’t need to be long since you’re about to see her. Maybe say something about the scavenger hunt or your time at the ball?

Inspired by her suggestion, he finished the short note.

> You were the one that went on a hunt, but I’m the one the found what I really needed. 
> 
> See you soon,
> 
> Harry

Hermione gave him an inscrutable look after reading his short note. Nervous, he asked, “Is it terrible? Should I change something?”

She shook her head. “It’s sweet, you should send it.”

At that, he rolled the note for Hedwig who was standing in front of them impatiently. “I know she’s not in the Hall yet, but this is for Daphne, alright?” She gave him what he thought of as a fond bump and flew away.

His early morning letter bore Remus’s neat lettering, and Harry unfolded it. He carefully laid it out on the table so that he could read it as he ate.

> Good Morning Harry,
> 
> I hope this has found you having a nice morning. I know that Hogmeade weekends can be an exciting treat but sometimes hectic. I am sorry that I will be unable to meet you this weekend as tonight is the full moon. 
> 
> All is well here at the farm. My employers were delighted by the compliments that young Mr. Longbottom paid to their gillyweed. They are also very proud that you will be using it during the next task. I have expressed your desire to compensate them for their plants, but they insist that it is their privilege to provide it to you. 
> 
> I know that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, but it pleases them to have such a place in the tournament. Being a squib is hard. They, like most of them, struggle to find a place in a world they only belong to tangentially. I hope you will accept their generosity, as it would please them far more than money.
> 
> Write me back with a time that we can have a floo call. I miss talking to you.
> 
> Uncle Moony

“What does Remus say?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, just that his employers are happy about me using the gillyweed, and that he won’t be able to make the trip to Hogmeade due to the full moon,” he shook his head. “I don’t think he remembered that it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Hmm, I suppose it’s not something he has reason to keep track of…” she remarked.

The both of them finished their breakfasts and started out of the hall a few minutes later. Hermione decided to head for the library and finish an essay. Harry made an excuse about forgetting something in her study room. They parted ways with a promise to meet in the Entrance Hall in time for the carriages.

Harry ducked into the quiet study room and set several privacy charms up before digging his letter out. This time, instead of setting it down to read, he held it. As he expected, the words changed before his eyes.

> Hello Pup,
> 
> I can’t tell you how distraught I was that the Hogsmeade weekend fell over a full moon. I know that I can’t ask Remus to leave the farm today. He’s under so much scrutiny after that Skeeter witch wrote her hatchet piece on Dumbledore. People in Dufftown’s wizarding community would be very unhappy to think he wasn’t taking care to keep everyone around him safe. (You and I both know it’s a load of nonsense, but we don’t dare risk the situation.)
> 
> That said, I’ve missed far too many chances to see you, so I’ll be making the trip up myself. I’ve got a bit of a disguise even to the form that you’ve seen before, but I think you’ll know me anyway. Find me behind The Three Broomsticks at 10, and we’ll find a quiet place to talk.
> 
> Sirius

He reread the letter once more. Then he folded it carefully and began to laugh. 

* * *

The carriages rolled along in a line towards the village. Inside one, Harry and Daphne sat across from Lavender and Ron. “So, do you two have anything fantastic planned for today?” Lavender asked her cousin teasingly.

“I’ve told Harry to take a rest from the grand gestures today,” Daphne told her linking her soft hand with his. “If he keeps trying to outdo himself, he’ll be trying to take us picnicking with unicorns by the end of term.”

He shook his head and sent Ron a tentative smile. “Kind of a relief, really. I’m not much of a poet, and Filch doesn’t care what I’m trying to set up if he catches me out after curfew.”

His friend answered his comment with a laugh, “That’s certainly true! I thought my mum’s last howler to Fred and George was going to break a window it was so loud.” He reassured Daphne, “They’ve laid off pranks on most of your house, but they figure Pucey and his mates deserve what they get after cursing Dean and leaving him the way they did.”

Daphne sniffed dismissively, “They deserve far more than that. He could have died, naked in the cold as he was. Had Hagrid not found him, he may well have.” She pinched her lips in anger, “Pucey says he believes in Wizarding tradition, but he would traditionally have been subject to a challenge or, despite it being on Hogwarts grounds, a public inquest.”

“We don’t have to talk about this today? Do we?” Lavender’s eyes swam a little. “It’s just all so upsetting.”

Ron patted her hand, “No, we don’t have to talk about it.” He looked across to Harry, “So what are you two doing today?”

He glanced to his side and tried to mimic the doting look he often saw Hermione give her, “I promised Daphne we’d spend the morning at Gladrags. It was the primary thing she wanted to do today.”

“Oh good!” Lavender sounded so relieved that he arched his brows in surprise. “No offense, Harry, but you’ve got terribly bland taste in clothing. I’m glad to see her take you in hand on that because I’ve got quite the challenge getting Neville put together.”

Ron frowned at her comment, “Don’t know why you care what the blokes wear, Lavender. It’s not as though we’re all in the gossipy pages of The Daily Prophet.”

She sighed dramatically, “Maybe not, but we can still make an effort. Dressing well feels good. It can change how we react and how people react to us.”

He looked across the carriage at his friend’s open style winter robe worn over his white uniform shirt and too short black pants. When he met Ron’s sceptical look, his friend rolled his eyes and said, “Lavender, I don’t think a new wardrobe is going to change much about how people treat either me or Harry at Hogwarts.”

She fell into a huffy silence as they passed into village. Trying to keep a bit of peace, Harry asked, “Well, what are you doing today?”

“I’m taking Lavender to Honeydukes for a bit of shopping then to Madame Puddifoots for an early lunch.” He must have misinterpreted Harry’s humor filled expression because he grinned back. “If you two finish at Gladrags, they might be able to fit you in. Valentine’s is a big day, but George says they don’t really get busy until later.”

“Thank you, Ron, but I don’t think we’ll be done,” Daphne said it politely, but Harry knew that she had no interest in frequenting a tea shop she considered gauche and cliche.

Once they all disembarked, Harry and Daphne were joined by Viktor and Hermione. He had played off the invitation to Krum as looking for moral support during the shopping trip, but he also knew that Hermione would feel less awkward with her own date. The two enjoyed each other’s company even though they had been plain about being only friends.

The older boy looked with awe at the blooming hearts and dancing roses around High Street. “This is much more…”Viktor seemed to struggle for the right word, “More… than I was expecting.”

“Do you have Valentine’s in Bulgaria?” Hermione asked him curiously.

“Dah, we have it. But it is not as… bright.” He replied waving his hand to indicate the varied decorations. “In Bulgaria, we have other holiday on same day so there is much celebration, though different.”

Daphne nodded, “Some of this is to cater to the Hogwart’s students. Afterall, we don’t get many Hogsmeade weekends, so it’s already something of a special occasion for us.”

“Hermione, will you join me in side trip to sweet shop? I promised my mother I would send her more of the chocolate frogs,” he addressed his question to the girl on his arm, but he also sent Harry a raised brow glance.

He looked nervously toward the clothier but gave his three friends a smile. “Would you mind bringing us a few treats from there when you meet us? If Daphne is anything like her cousin, I might need something to perk me up after the first hour.”

She laughed and elbowed him. “Sounds like Neville is telling horror stories! He should be ashamed of besmirching the good name of his fashion consultant.”

He and Daphne kept walking further down the street as their companions veered off to get chocolates. Her hand on his arm helped him ignore the eyes on them as they strolled. There were a few murmurs of his name and a sudden flash of light to one side, but they walked on. 

Just as he reached for the door to Gladrags, he thought he noticed that they were being watched by a skinny black dog with one dark bronze ear and a matching tail. The sound of the alert from the door and a greeting from inside distracted him. He turned away and escorted Daphne into the brightly lit shop.

“Good morning!” a petite woman with steel grey hair greeted them enthusiastically. “Welcome, Heiress Greengrass, Heir Potter. It’s a delight to host you today! I am Eustace Gladrags.” She bustled up to them and shook Daphne’s hand. He was grateful that she offered him her hand knuckles up so that he knew to bow over it.

She ushered them back past the lost looking boy examining a necklace and through a small doorway away from the main shop. As he passed the counter, he saw a custom clock that listed the hours along with what appeared to be the shop’s schedule. _It’s already 9, how am I going to sneak off to find Sirius if we haven’t even started shopping?_

“So, Heiress Greengrass, it’s my understanding that you want to improve Heir Potter’s wardrobe. Is there a particular occasion we need to consider?” Madame Gladrags pulled a seamstress tape and some pieces of fabric from the bank of drawers along one wall.

“Well,” Daphne sent him a sweet smile that made him feel guilty for keeping secrets. “I’m hoping we’ll need something special for the Triwizard Tournament award ceremony.” She turned to address the tailor directly, “Other than that, a few complimentary pieces for weekend wear should suffice. We spend most of our time in our uniforms afterall…. Is there anything else you need, Harry?”

Her question felt like an after thought, but he did answer, “Do you have any muggle style options? It would be helpful when I leave for the summer holidays.”

Their responses seemed to please the woman as she beamed at them, “I can certainly pull together some pieces and also show you how to coordinate some items for both wizarding and muggle styles.” She glanced hesitantly toward Daphne, “I know that the Greengrass family is keen on tradition, but a few custom pieces for transitioning into muggle garb can be quite useful for us all.”

She nodded at that, “I think it’s a good suggestion. My father says that it’s important to plan well for forays into the muggle world so that we can ensure we protect our highest statute.” He flushed when she sent him a doting look. “Too many important things reside out there to ignore it completely.”

The older woman clasped her hands together, “Ah, such truth in the face of young love!” She pointed at a large step, “Heir Potter, if you’ll discard your outer robe and step up so that I can get your measurements?”

She tapped her wand to her tape, and it flew up to measure him. He allowed the nudges and bumps from the enchanted object to position him so that his arms, legs and torso were documented. As that went on, Daphne and Madame Gladrags debated cut and color for his new clothes. 

He let his mind drift and was surprised when the tape, after measuring the length of both feet, coiled itself up and flew into the tailor’s hand. The woman absently set it aside and stepped around him, “Yes, I can see what you mean about a closer fit. In the loser styles that are common now, he would look far smaller than he is.”

He stepped down from the stool and peered over Daphne’s shoulder. To his relief, there were only five new garments listed. She seemed to have decided that he needed two new outer robes, a winter cloak, and two waistcoats. 

She met his eyes and told him, “Madame Gladrags is right to suggest waiting on muggle trousers until closer to summer holiday. We can select them now, but you might grow a bit more before then so…”

He nodded in agreement and squeezed her hand. “I think it sounds like a good plan.” He stepped back as their hostess brought over books filled with clothing pictures. Before he turned away, he saw the models turning and posing on the page. Worried for the time, he snuck a look at the clock that he could barely see in the mirror. _It’s almost time to meet Sirius. She’s plainly busy for a while. Can I sneak away?_

At the next break in the conversation, he commented, “I wonder what’s keeping Viktor and Hermione…” Daphne looked over at him in surprise. “I think I should go look for them, make sure that they haven’t been waylaid by some of Viktor’s fans.”

She laughed at that and offered her hand for a kiss. “Very well, Harry. Go and rescue our friends.”

He stepped through the doorway and into the main shop. Realizing that he only had minutes to get to the back of the Broomsticks, he walked briskly through the door and ducked around the building. He checked his surroundings and pulled his invisibility cloak over him before moving through the back streets to meet his godfather.

* * *

He smelled the back of the pub before he arrived. Apparently, the staff was not vanishing all the waste their clientele created. He wrinkled his nose up in distaste. Had anyone been looking at that moment, it would have seemed an odd expression on a dog.

He tensed as he heard a footfall, then the back door to the pub opened into the alleyway. A boy, too young for Hogwarts, carried a bucket of food scraps out and dumped it into a bin. He glanced over at Sirius and smiled.

“Here, pup,” the boy called, clicking his tongue. He wagged his tail reflexively at the attention from the happy child. When he took a step towards the boy, he reached back into the bin he had just filled and pulled a piece of roast chicken from the top. He held it out in invitation. 

Sirius had eaten breakfast very early that morning, and, once separated from the warning smells of rot, the morsel was inviting. _I always did love The Broomsticks’ food._ He trotted over to the child and gently took the food from his hand. As he chewed, the boy scratched behind his ears. He licked the child’s hand in gratitude.

“Good boy, you’re a good dog,” he told him. The simple affection had him lolling his tongue out happily and wagging his tail. He had always liked children.

At a call from inside, he gave him a last pet. “See you around, pup,” he told him, collecting his bucket. Once the boy was inside, Sirius was alone once more. He skirted around the refuse bin and used it to obscure the view of him from the door.

He waited anxiously, listening to the noises echoing from High Street and inside the pub. He failed to notice his tail thumping rhythmically from excitement. As the minutes ticked past their rendezvous, his tail slowed and then stopped. _Did he not want to see me? Did something go wrong?_

He tried not to worry, but his thoughts ran away from him. _Could whoever entered him in the tournament have decided on a more direct attack? Could he have fallen ill and not been able to come?_ A crush of gravel beside the building made him freeze. There was a familiar whiff on the breeze. He drew in the scent, savoring it for a moment.

By the time nothing rounded the corner, his tail, once again, wagged in frantic glee. He started forward and nosed at the minute gap in James’s invisibility cloak. Harry laughed and pulled it off entirely.

“Hello there,” he said stuffing his cloak into his pocket. He reached out to scratch and found the perfect spot behind his dyed ear. “Aren’t you a handsome fellow?”

He wagged his tail and leaned in to the affection for a moment. Sounds from the kitchen reminded him that they were not in private. He gently closed his teeth around the sleeve of Harry’s robe and tugged twice.

When his godson followed, he began to trot through the back alleys of Hogsmeade. His destination was not somewhere anyone would expect. Esther Nightshade had once been sponsored by House Potter, but she was long since considered a sad old half blood. Considered such by anyone that did not know the services she had rendered for the Department of Mysteries over the years.

The overgrown garden with the half stone wall was likely thought of as a blight by the neighbors in the manicured little corner of the wizarding village. For Sirius, it was the perfect place to meet his godson on two legs. They crossed into the garden, and he transformed into himself.

“Sirius!” Harry exclaimed before throwing himself into his arms. “It’s wonderful to see you!”

He clasped his godson to him and closed his eyes to better remember the moment. “Harry… pup…” he breathed out the words. “It’s blissful to see you too, my dear boy.”

They held still for a moment, and Sirius imprinted on his memory the smell of his godson… soap, cologne and teenager. When he finally pulled back, he could not bring himself to let go entirely. He clasped his shoulders tight and held him at arms length.

He stared into the face of his best friend, but, somehow, it was Lily’s eyes that stood out to him. He breathed out slowly; the sight of those green eyes forced him to temper his emotions. His eyes filled, and he blinked away his tears.

“Sirius,” Harry whispered. “I’m glad you’re alright.” His godson looked him from head to toe. “You are, aren’t you? You look better, to be sure…”

“I’m alright,” he reassured. “I’m not perfect, but Remus is fantastic nursemaid.” He laughed at his own joke, then started again. “Did I cause you a problem? I didn’t realize it was Valentine’s until I got to Hogsmeade this morning. Will your girl be angry at you?”

“Daphne would understand, if I could tell her the truth,” his dejected sigh made him feel like the responsible adult in a way he rarely did. “As it is, I’ll have to try to make it up to her for bailing on the shopping trip she wanted. I’m sure Hermione will help me figure it out.”

“Surely she’ll understand if you said you needed a break?” He chuckled at the rolled eyes and skeptical look he was given in response. “I promise I’ll help you get out of hot water with your girl,” he assured as he grinned.

“Thanks, Sirius,” his godson dismissed his offer with a shrug. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

He let the topic pass in favor of more important things but made up his mind to help the boy out. “I wanted time to talk to you about your nightmares and the contest. Have you had any other times that your scar hurt you?”

He had left the question more open than he realized until Harry began to whisper, “It used to hurt around Professor Quirrell in my first year, but I think that’s because he was possessed by Voldemort. Other than that, it hurt in the Chamber of Secrets some, but that was Voldemort as well.” The boy slumped in his own skin. “I think that’s why the nightmare I had over the summer scared me. Every other time my scar has hurt, Voldemort was near.”

He pulled his godson back into his arms for a hug. The idea of him being so continuously hurt by Voldemort made him want to cry and rage. “Any wise wizard would be frightened by the idea of his spectre hovering over their lives.” They each took a few minutes to breath. “Have you had a chance to talk to Algie about Occlumency?”

Harry nodded but still seemed unhopeful. “I did, but he said he was not the one to teach me. He said that some people are naturally better at the craft than others and… well that he was naturally awful at it.”

He shook his head at that, “He refused to even try to teach you?”

“Not exactly,” he said, obviously inclined to defend the older man. “He only said that Occlumency was not something he could effectively teach me at this point. He did say that some of the things he’s teaching me will help if I find a good Occlumency teacher one day.”

“I’m not sure what constitutes a good Occlumency teacher at your age,” he let his discouragement come out in his voice. “I can understand if he doesn’t think he can do it.” He sighed and then, determined not to waste his precious time with Harry, he pulled back from that topic. “Tell me, then… How are you, really?”

“Well enough, I promise,” he smiled reassuringly. “I think I have more free time as a champion than I normally do with Quidditch, but the teachers seem to load up the work just to make up for it.”

“Are you able to keep up with alright?” he asked, settling onto a small garden bench. “Any subjects giving you trouble?”

“Not terribly,” Harry sat on the ground facing him. “I think I would like Potions except for Professor Snape and having class with the Slytherins. My grade is better this year. Daphne’s been encouraging me. She says I shouldn’t give him any excuse to dock points.”

“Hmph,” he frowned angrily at the idea of him being mistreated. “I hate that you have to do extra, but, unless you decide to run Potter Holdings full time, you’ll need at least OWL level Potions. How are the rest of your classes?”

He shrugged, “I’m good in defense, charms and transfiguration. It drives Hermione crazy that I can neglect theory but still master the practical work so quickly.”

“I was much the same way. It drove Remus mad,” he chuckled at the memory.

Harry grinned at him, “I can see that… Sirius, was History of Magic so dreadfully dull when you were at Hogwarts?”

“Ugh,” he groaned. “I loathed that class which is tragic given that I actually quite enjoy reading about historical figures.”

“Really?” he sounded surprised. 

“Yes,” he asserted. “I’ve always found people far more interesting than battles and timelines. All Binns taught us was dates and events. It’s dreadfully dull. But when you know why the people behind those events did what they did, that’s when history gets interesting.” He flushed a little, embarrassed at his impassioned defense of biographies. “What about Hagrid’s class?”

“It’s going alright,” he told him. “Hagrid was rather down after Rita Skeeter wrote those awful things to make him look bad, but I think getting back into class and working with us has helped him.”

“Do you think you’ll go for a NEWT in Care?” he asked.

He shrugged, “I think so. It’s hard to think past this year, but I should get a good OWL score in Care since Hermione and I’ve done so much creature research with the tournament.” He looked pensively up at him. “Sirius, I…” he trailed off before seeming to make up his mind. “I think I messed up last year, picking classes… I didn’t really know what any of it was about or really good for and… well, I just went along with what Ron was taking because he was the only one that would really talk about it with me.”

“Ron was?” his surprise came through in his voice. “I would have figured Hermione would have been glad to talk about it with you.”

He laughed, “Hermione? Hermione tried to take every class Hogwarts offered! It was impossible to get any sense out of her when it came to what to take, and at least now I understand why, but…” He shook his head. “I guess I figured that Ron knew what he was about because his family’s been in the wizarding world for ages, but Daphne and Hermione are doing all this stuff with Runes that seems really useful… and I’m just making up nonsense for Professor Trelawney.”

“Divination? Is that what’s got you worried?” He smiled and tried to be encouraging.

“Not worried, just frustrated,” Harry admitted. “I took it cause Ron said it would be an easy OWL, but she predicts my death every time we do group work… I hate it, and it’s really hard to take it seriously.”

“An easy OWL?” he repeated. When his godson nodded, Sirius once again berated himself mentally for not having been there for him. “Harry, there’s no real point in a class like that. You don’t get a bonus in life for getting a few more OWLs.”

“So, should I drop the class?” he sounded skeptical.

He thought a moment, “Stick with it for now. You don’t have to take end of year exams anyway so it doesn’t add too much to your work.” When Harry nodded, his heart warmed. “We’ll talk further about that class at the end of term. We may want to look at trading it for independent study next year.”

“Thanks Sirius,” he stood and hugged him. 

There was still much for them to discuss and time was getting away from them. As he held his godson tight, he pushed those worries away. _I had forgotten how wonderful it can be to have a family._

* * *

When Hermione and Viktor walked into the shop mere moments after Harry left, Daphne had laughed thinking that they had just missed each other. She kept working with Madame Gladrags, happily showing Hermione the catalogue of muggle to wizarding transitional fashions. Even Viktor showed some interest and ordered a few things for his sister.

With all that, it was no wonder that Harry had been gone for an hour before she noticed that he was not yet back. Irritation shifted into worry when she saw the expression on Hermione’s face. Whatever he was up to, even his best friend was unaware and concerned.

Nearly two hours after he had left the shop, Harry appeared in the doorway. When her relief faded, she glared at him. Madame Gladrags was no gossip, but her shop was not empty. 

“Sorry to have been delayed,” he surprised her with a half hug rather than his usual kiss to the knuckles.

She arched her brows at him to let him know that that was not a sufficient explanation. While normally they respected each other’s space and the reality of their relationship, getting abandoned for two hours in public on Valentines had been embarrassing. He picked up her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it.

“I bumped into an old friend of my parents that wanted to chat.” His explanation was reasonable, but the flush to his cheeks told her it was not honest. She pretended to accept his story and buried the hurt from his lie.

They finished their shopping and decided on The Three Broomsticks for lunch. Viktor listened with interest as they explained the history of the pub in the context of the town. To her surprise, Hermione managed to tell the story of the goblin rebellions concisely and with interest.

“Tell me, is butterbeer drink a sweet or more like sour drinks from Bulgaria?” Viktor asked them.

Harry was the one to answer him, “It’s a sweet drink… like a dessert almost.” He stood, “I’ll go order us a a few from the bar. I think you’ll like it.” She kept an eye on him while he was away, reflexively trying to make sure that he did not disappear again. She met her girlfriend’s gaze as he was walking back. 

“Are you alright, Daphne?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” she lied cutting a glance at Viktor. “I think I’ll have to talk to Harry about when it’s acceptable to duck away without warning me, is all.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip, a sensual distraction that she wished she dared comment on. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

The conversation paused as Harry set four mugs of butterbeer on the table. He carefully positioned the overfull glasses before them. As he walked around behind her, he rested his warm hands on her shoulders. Her aggravation and hurt faded at the affection. Before she could think of a response, a carved wooden box appeared and hovered above her drink.

Harry’s fingers tensed on her arms, and she made an effort to bump the box with her detection charm from her charm bracelet. The charm’s glow assured her of the safety of the box, and she balanced it in her palm. When she opened it, there was a luminescent but clear orb inside. It had a loop for her bracelet and a scrap of linen inside. 

The sight bewildered her. _Why did he give me another traditional courting gift? Why give me this and lie to me on the same day?_ Even as she let him attach the charm to her bracelet, her thoughts whirled chaotically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may end up reducing the chapter count for this story. I've rearranged some of the scenes in my outline and cut a side plot.


	8. Chapter 8

Valentine’s day was nearly over, but Daphne had not yet given her girlfriend her gift. She sat in the library with her cousin and best friend but let their conversation flow around her. _I don’t know why I feel so dreadfully unsettled._

She glanced down at her half completed essay and forced herself to get back to it. She reread the first paragraphs in the hope that it would help her regain her thoughts. When that effort failed, she reviewed the text again. After a few more futile efforts at completing her assignment, she found that even Lavender and Tracey’s normally comforting presence was grating on her.

 _Ahhhh_ _!_ She screamed silently. _What is wrong with me?_ Her thoughts went, again, to the gift resting in the bottom of her bag. She unconsciously fidgetted with the newest charm on her bracelet. _I’ll get nothing done while I’m so restless,_ she decided.

Before she could think up an excuse, she realized that there was silence beside her. “Where did Lavender go?” she asked of Tracey.

Her friend’s eyes widened in surprise, “She went back to her dorm for her history notes. Didn’t you hear her say?”

“No,” Daphne gave a sheepish shrug. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you alright?” she leaned in with concern. “You’ve not been acting like yourself this evening.” She waved a hand at their table. “You barely spoke to me or Lavender. You’ve not written a word on your essay, and you’ve had that book open to the same page for nearly an hour. Will you tell me what’s bothering you?”

“I,” she stopped. When Tracey encouraged her, she started back up. “I’m not entirely sure.” She grumbled a little in aggravation. “I feel foolish, but I’m just so restless and I can’t focus.”

“Is this about Harry?” she asked.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “He… he left Gladrags with a flimsy excuse in the middle of our shopping trip. When he got back over an hour later, he barely told me anything about why.”

“Oh, Daphne,” her friend whispered in sympathy.

“It’s not…” she growled a little. “It’s not like that. I trust Harry! I just… I was really embarrassed and more than a little worried. Then he showed back up without a real reason. And he gave me a linen charm in a wooden box, and now I don’t know what to think.”

“He gave you wood and linen in the same gift?” she repeated back in surprise.

“Yes,” she sighed. 

“Have the two of you actually talked about all this? Officially courting, I mean,” she asked.

“No,” she admitted, knowing that her secret love made all of this more confusing.

“Well, you’re not going to get any work done on that essay. Maybe you should try talking to your boyfriend?” Tracey encouraged.

She nodded, “That may be a good idea.” _Or maybe I can find Hermione…_

She collected her things to leave the library. “Thanks, Tracey.”

“Of course,” she smiled wistfully. “I’ll do what I must to get my dose of vicarious romance.”

Daphne gave her a half hug and walked briskly from the library. At the sight of the busy corridor, she decided a little discretion was in order. She walked into the loo and made sure that no one was there before disillusioning herself. She waited a moment for someone else to open the door, but, to her consternation, Tracey was the one that entered.

“Daphne?” she called. “You forgot your potions text in the library… Daphne?”

She swore but knew that revealing herself would be too suspicious. Tracey tried calling out again but gave up. She slipped out the door with her friend and cursed again when Harry walked straight toward them. “Harry,” Tracey waved him over. 

In the crush of people, Daphne decided to leave rather than listen to their conversation. _Maybe I can still salvage some of this day. I’ll try to catch Hermione and forget the rest of this._

* * *

Lavender tried, once again, to distract her boyfriend from talk of quidditch with the other Gryffindor boys in the common room. _Surely, a boy that’s friends with Hermione, of all people, is capable of some conversation._ He ignored her efforts, and she growled under her breath. 

“Ron, I think you make some good points, but… maybe Lavender would like to talk to you without me as a bother?” Colin, despite his youth, was no fool.

He looked up, his sky blue eyes wide, and said, “Hey, Lavender. Sorry, did you want to sit with us?”

Part of her wanted to grumble at his cluelessness, but another part of her acknowledged that she knew his obliviousness and obsessions when she accepted his invitation to Yule. “Ron, I enjoyed our date today,” she told him resting her head on his shoulder.

He grinned proudly at her, “I’m glad of it, Lavender. I’ll admit, Madame Puddifoots cakes were much better than I expected them to be.”

She smiled smugly. _Your love of food made Valentine’s plans so easy, Ron._ “Of course, dear,” she mimicked her mother’s tone but gave it no worry. “Thank you for understanding when I needed to go to the library as we got back.”

“Of course, dear,” he echoed her and angled for a kiss. She rolled her eyes beneath her lids and let him buss her cheek. He chuckled quietly and asked, “What did you need? You seemed in a rush when we all got back?”

She cuddled into his warmth and thought, _Maybe I don’t give my Ron enough credit?_ She hummed with content and told him, “I realized that I missed a reference in my Divination essay. I rushed to library so that I could make sure I got the book I needed.”

He huffed in laughter but seemed to miss her tension at his response, “You rushed off to get a book for a Divination essay?” He chortled even as he continued. “That’s a waste of time, luv. I could show you how to make up your essays! Trelawney doesn’t even notice!”

She froze down to her toes, which normally wiggled all day. “Ron… do you make up your essays?” She asked her question cautiously, hoping she had misunderstood.

Oblivious, he answered, “Sure! Trelawney barely reads them. So long as I throw something in there about spiders or Harry, she grades me fine.”

She remembered her recent conversation with her favorite teacher, _She knows that people make up nonsense for her class. When she told me it was the way of things for those with sight, I never thought it would be my boyfriend doing it._ She sat up and unlaced her fingers from his.

“Ron, you don’t even understand the harm that you’re doing, do you?” she could only hope that he was obtuse rather than malicious.

“What are you talking about? She’s not using our essays to inform on the cosmos or some such!” He must have known that he had messed up but he was scrambling to understand where and how. 

“You are disrespecting my mentor and her craft,” she told him coldly. She gave him no additional chance to backtrack on his comments. “I like you, Ron,” she said with finality. “You’re cute and witty. You could be so much more…” When he tried to speak, she held up her hand to stop him. “Let me know if you ever decide to meet your own potential.”

As she walked away from her first boyfriend, Lavender expected to feel sad, lonely or otherwise less worthy. Instead, she only felt resolved to not settle for less than what she deserved in a boyfriend. Upstairs, Parvati’s open arms and encouragement only cemented her determination to hold out for only the best for herself.

* * *

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Hermione exclaimed as she threw herself into her arms. Daphne crushed her soft form into her own and breathed deep. The journal she had bought in Hogsmeade rested against her back where her girlfriend still clutched it.

“I’m so glad you like it,” she whispered deliberately into her ear. She was rewarded with a giggle.

“You minx, that tickles!” she squirmed and laughed.

She nuzzled into her girlfriend’s wild curls and blew lightly into her ear. “That’s why I do it,” she admitted.

Her beautiful girl pulled back, still laughing. “So, a confession at last!”

Daphne pressed a kiss to that gorgeous smile and hummed in pleasure when it was returned. She pulled her close again and tilted her head down to get closer. “I’ll confess,” she stopped mid-sentence to kiss her again. “Hmm, that I adore you.” She trailed her lips up her jaw. and rested them on her earlobe. “That’s what I confess.”

“Oh, sweet,” she grabbed her arm and dragged them both down onto the couch. She threaded her fingers through her straight blond hair. “I think I love you.”

She laughed with the joy that bubbled up at her girl’s whispered confession. “You think?” She pecked a kiss on her forehead. “You presume?” She smacked another kiss between her eyes and exulted in her laughter. “You suppose?”

Hermione ended her teasing when she pulled herself up for a proper kiss. They reclined the rest of the way on the sofa. She shoved aside all her worries to wrap all her attention in her.

When they broke apart, flushed and breathing hard, they rested on separate ends of the sofa. By unspoken agreement, they gave their own passions time to cool. Finally, Daphne whispered, “I never imagined that love would be like this… If I did imagine it at all, I thought it would be theatrical and dramatic… with you, everything feels so natural.”

“I know what you mean…” Hermione lightly touched her own lips. “I remember my mum laughing when I would cover my eyes to keep from seeing kissing on the telly. I always thought the people looked… awkward together.” She shook her head lightly, “Of course, I know that those are just actors, but I still never imagined feeling this way about someone. I couldn’t have…”

Temptation drew her forward, but her good sense set in. She inhaled shakily and laughed at herself. “We’d best make an effort to behave ourselves, love. It’s only an hour until curfew.”

“Blast it!” she exclaimed with a grin. “I suppose we could take a look at our privacy runes project?”

It took too long to get out their notes and references. She knew they would make no progress, but she was reluctant to leave her love before it was necessary. Instead, they swapped notes and started combining their thoughts on what to try out and how.

“I suppose the primary thing we’ll need in order to test them is a willing subject,” Hermione tapped her quill to her lips. “I’m sure Harry will help us, but do you think we ought to get someone else to try breaking the privacy charms as well?”

She tensed at the mention of her boyfriend apparent but tried to focus on the question, “Well, I think if they could prevent the Weasley twins from getting in, then they’re certain to do what we need.” 

Hermione grinned wickedly, “Could we turn it into a prank of some sort? We could have them test it without knowing that they’re helping…”

“Well,” she drawled. “That would only be fun if we had a surprise waiting for them.” They hunched over the work table and tried to think of a prank worthy of the twins. _Pity, I’ve never really been much for practical jokes._ The third time they dismissed an idea as too plebeian, she grumbled, “Perhaps we just aren’t good at pranks.”

“I believe I can become good at anything I put my mind to,” Hermione insisted with a stern expression. She only started laughing when Daphne met her eyes. “I think we should get Harry to help us. I would ask Ginny, but that would give us away.”

Her smile faded at the reminder of Harry. Before her girlfriend could ask about her change in mood, she bit her bottom lip in thought, “Hermione… Did Harry tell you where he went today? Why he snuck off?”

“He didn’t tell me, no…” she answer cautiously. 

Daphne keyed in to her tone, “But you figured it out?”

“I,” she cut herself off and refused to meet her eyes.

She started, “Hermione, if you think you know where he went - “ 

Her girlfriend cut her off, “It’s only a guess.”

“An educated one, from the person that knows him best,” she cajoled her, walking around the table. She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. At first, Daphne thought she had resigned to tell her. She felt victorious even though she refused to examine why she was so desperate to know. 

“Daphne, love,” she lifted a hand to her brush a stray hair from her cheek. “Harry faithfully keeps our secrets. You cannot ask me to betray his.”

She felt so many things in that moment that she could not identify. The feelings she could name were guilt, jealousy, admiration and worry. “Was he in danger?” she asked as worry won the moment.

“If I’m right,” she qualified, “then no, he was in no danger.”

Her worry eased, but she still felt nagged by a sense of unhappiness and disquiet. “But you won’t tell me because your guess has to do with a secret that you keep for him?”

Again, she closed her eyes and refused to answer. As the silence dragged on, she felt it threatening the lovely evening they had enjoyed. _I won’t let our last moments tonight be spoiled by a fight. Especially when I cannot even tell myself why I am so desperate to know the secrets of a boy that is only my friend._ Instead of asking another question, she brushed her lips across Hermione’s and told her, “I hope our Harry understands what a good friend he has in you.”

“He’s been a good friend to me too,” she replied immediately.

Rather than sort through the Gordian knot of feelings that threatened to overwhelm her, she pulled her love in for a last hug. “I should head down to the dungeons. I can’t risk missing curfew.”

They said their sweet goodbyes, and she walked out of the room. The halls were not yet abandoned, but she did not need a charm to gain solitude. Her varied thoughts and emotions all clamored for attention, but she pressed them down. Her anxiety over Harry’s secrets tried to overpower her joy over Hermione’s declaration of love, but she forced it all out of her mind by revising Ancient Greek Runes in her head.

Even as she declared victory over the clamor of thoughts in her mind, she rolled her shoulders to try and ease the tension in her muscles. To her frustration, her efforts failed. _Wish I had asked Harry for more information about his mental exercises. That might have been useful._ Thoughts of Harry did little to sooth her. By the time she approached the dungeons, her skin nearly crawled with her efforts to maintain composure in front of her fellow Slytherins.

The minute she walked into the Slytherin common room, Tracey intercepted her. She tensed up and failed to hide it. Her best friend looked deeply in her eyes and said, “Let’s go talk?”

They went into their dorm room, thankfully empty, and Tracey set privacy charms before turning to her. “Did you talk to Harry?”

Guilt twisted in her gut, but she was grateful to have seen Harry and Tracey talking. “I didn’t find him,” she said simply. She hoped that Tracey would leave it because, in that moment, she knew that she would be unable to lie to her.

“Did you look?” she asked sharply.

She jerked her head up in surprise. “Tracey, what are you trying to ask?” Her effort to find calm failed miserably. Her breath shuddered in and out as the chaos in her mind tried to overwhelm her.

“I’m just…” she took her hands, “I’m worried about you. You’re not acting like yourself.”

Her eyes burned with emotion as she blinked rapidly. She scrounged for anything she could say to reassure her friend, but she drew a blank. She whistled in a breath and confessed, “Tracey, I’m so confused!” 

The first sob broke through and surprised her. Unable to hold back the surge anymore, she buried her face into Tracey’s shoulder and cried. Her friend gently rubbed her palms across her back. As she finally released all her joys, fears and hurts; she could only be grateful for the comfort.

* * *

Barty Crouch Jr. leaned his head back and stretched both of his legs. His disguise gave him precious little time to be himself, but he knew that his lord did not want Wormtail to know this part of his plan. _A coward can be useful if turned to your side, but only a fool would trust a traitor. And The Dark Lord is no fool._

He checked his privacy charms on the door and set another charm to prevent his floo traffic from being tracked. As the time arrived, he threw the powder into the fire and called out, “Crouch House Study.”

He slid his chair forward and leaned into the fire. “Wormtail! What did you want so urgently?”

The traitor’s face looked more ratlike than usual in the green of the floo call. “Barty!” he gasped out apparently in pain. “Our master wished you alerted,” he stopped to pant for breath.

He tensed, “Wormtail, what have you done? Our master is merciful and would only have cursed you in punishment.”

The unpleasant man glared at him, “It’s your father! He broke through the Imperious and fled the house.”

From behind him, Barty heard another voice call out, “Wormtail, set me at the fire and come see to Nagini!”

His heart sped up at the privilege he would be granted. In deference to his master, Barty sank to the floor in front of the fireplace. After a moment, the form of a chair became visible. In it, his master rested within his vessel. “Barty,” his sibilant voice came through into his little office. “Wormtail has failed to restrain your father. I believe that he will head for Hogwarts seeking Albus Dumbledore.”

“He will fail in that my lord. I will see to it,” he assured him. “Do you wish me to return him to you?”

“No,” he said flatly. “He has outlived his usefulness.”

His breath sped up in excitement, and he bent forward with a reverent bow. “I will dispatch him, Master. Thank you for granting me this privilege.”

“Of course, Barty,” he hissed out his reply. “You know that I always reward loyalty.”

The floo connection closed before he could reply. He sat on the floor before the now normal fire and ignored the sweat that beaded up on his face. As he contemplated his orders, his lips split wide in a gleeful grin. “Father, I will see you very soon.”

Feeling the need to act, he once again donned his disguise. A sip of polyjuice potion started the process, and he quickly attached the eye and wooden leg so that he could search the grounds. He finished his preparations with another sip of polyjuice and dropped the flask in his pocket.

As he opened the door, a thought struck him. His chuckle would have unnerved anyone that heard it. “Winky! Winky, come here!”

The little elf popped in front of him, “Yes, Professors Moody? Hows can Winky helps you?”

“You are aware that your former master has been very ill?” he asked her simply burying his delight in her drooping ears and suddenly moist eyes.

She nodded, “Yes, Professor… Winky has heard…” Her voice was filled with a quiet sadness that pleased him. 

“I have been informed that, in his illness, he has become delirious. His caretaker believes that he will make his way to Hogwarts,” he had to work to keep his smile sequestered in his heart. “We need to find him before he can be hurt or hurt someone else. Can you help me?”

“Oh, yes, Professor… Should Winky ask other elves to help?” She asked this reluctantly.

He thought quickly, “No Winky, we wouldn’t want to damage poor Mr. Crouch’s reputation. It’s best to keep this between us.”

She bobbed her head in eager agreement, “Yes, sirs. Thanks you sirs. I will start searching and comes to finds you if I finds him.”

She popped away, and he set a leisurely pace for the nearest castle exit. _Funny to think how nervous I was when I found out she was on the castle grounds. I nearly_ _crucio_ _’d the Gryffindor that babbled about her after Yule._ Anyone walking by might have been unnerved by the sound of his guttural laughter at the memory. _Certainly has been useful though… the little creature’s been too stupid to recognize the boy she helped raise._

He stomped slowly out into the blustering Scottish wind and held Mad-Eye Moody’s wand at the ready. He looked across at Black Lake and tried to decide which way his father would approach the school. _Either the forest or the_ _Hogsmeade_ _lane…_ He sniffed disdainfully at the idea of his father dirtying himself on a hike through a forest.

Before he made two steps toward the lane, Winky appeared before him. She wrung her hands and held back tears. “Oh, Professor! Master Crouch is very nots wells! Please, hurry!”

“Where did you find him, Winky?” he asked, walking along with her. _Must not be too concerned for the old bastard since you didn’t bring him to me._ He stumbled and shuffled along on Moody’s fake leg.

“Hes was talking to a tree, sir. Talking as though Mistress still lived,” she whispered reverently when she mentioned his mother.

“A tree near the edge of the forest?” he asked, carefully hiding his burning resentment that his father’s bond with his mother still caused.

“Yes, sir,” she pointed. “Thats way, sir.”

“Very good, Winky,” he told her. “Go and be with him until I get there. Try to make sure no one else goes near.” She looked up at him with wide eyes, and he quickly reminded her, “His reputation could be severely damaged if he is found by the wrong person.” _His reputation as a heartless bastard, that is._

She nodded and popped away. Barty kept walking in the direction she had indicated, and he gratefully switched Moody’s wand for his own. He kept it in his boot ever since he had liberated it from his father’s safe. _Best make sure there’s no surprise witnesses to this charade,_ he thought as he cast a few detection spells.

The last, an animagus detection of his own design, made him smile at the necessity. _Soon, pretty little beetle… you and I will truly meet… for now, I can’t allow you to interfere in my mission._ Ahead of him, his father stood in silhouette ranting to a tree.

He cursed under his breath when he realized that, there with his treacherous little elf, Potter and Krum stood talking frantically. Hoping he had not been seen, he ducked behind a tree and cast an imperious on Winky. He used his magic to direct her that, as soon as she was dismissed, she was to go to his quarters and wait.

Potter, the foolish boy, seemed to take her sudden impassiveness for grief. He knelt down and hugged the little beast. Whatever he said to her, she popped away. _Good, one less problem to address… Now to eliminate my father…_

He carefully aimed his wand, making sure that Potter would not be hit, and fired. His father flinched and blinked, but there was no flash of spellfire to give away his presence. _Medical charms are truly underrated,_ he gloated.

As he approached the three people, he saw that his father was already swaying on his feet. His hand fluttered up to rub at his chest. _Your heart rate is slowing old man… without a counter, you’ll fade away in less than an hour. It’s not the excruciating death I’ve wanted to give you, but it is the same in the end._

“Professor Moody!” Potter shouted to him and waved him over. “Please, sir, Mr. Crouch needs help!”

“Alastor,” his gaze was lucid for an instant before he faded again. “Did I tell you how well my boy did? Twelve OWLs! He’s going to make quite an impression when he joins us in the ministry.”

Old resentments burned in his gut, but he pushed his feelings down. “Potter, you and Krum go to the castle and fetch Madame Pomphrey. This man is need of immediate care.” His father reinforced his words by collapsing to his knees in that moment.

“Yes, Professor,” he turned and began rushing for the castle with his friend only a step behind.

He waited until they were out of sight before he cast again. His diaphragm paralyzed, Barty’s father stared up at him in terror. “Alastor, help me! Please help me!”

Ignoring the prone man for a moment, he again cast a spell to assure his solitude and another to ensure their privacy. Satisfied with his caution, he leaned over his father. “No, no one is going to help you now, Father.”

His father, silenced by magic, could only gape like a fish. He raised a grasping hand towards him, but Barty stepped back. “If only I had time to leave you here… leave you with your heart ever slowing and unable to take a breath.” He shook his head in regret, “But sadly, Potter and Krum will be back with help far to soon for that. Instead, you will get a quick death, but you will know that you die by my hand.”

Decision made, he stupefied the older man. After he lifted the two spells from his father, he used a simple darkening spell to hide the flash and whispered, “Avada Kedavra.”

By the time Pomphrey and Snape arrived a few minutes later, the evidence of foul play had been eliminated. All they saw was Alastor Moody sitting beside his former boss, one scarred hand clenched around his wrist. “Madame Pomphrey!” he lurched to stand. “His pulse has faded! He was clutching his chest and gasping. He collapsed just as I sent Potter for help.”

She stepped up and quickly cast her scans. To his well hidden glee, she shook her head. “He’s already dead, Alastor.” He cast his eyes to the ground to hide them from her, but she seemed to mistake his feelings. “You did what you could for him, and I’m sure you being there was a comfort to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write a properly menacing and unnerving Barty Jr. I would think that anyone kept prisoner by their own family for years would be a bit unhinged. (Even on his best behavior, the plot only worked because Moody had a reputation for eccentricity.)  
> I hope no one was too attached to the Lavender/Ron side plot. With House Greengrass getting more politically involved, she's having to grow up a bit faster.


	9. Chapter 9

Winky was staring blankly at the corner of his quarters when he entered. _I never thought I would be so glad to escape kindness and sympathy!_ Barty had held back his curses and true feelings as Madame Pomphrey expressed her condolences and fluttered her lashes at him.

 _I forgot how close to the other_ _aurors_ _of the Old Guard my father was… Seems the foolish_ _mediwitch_ _was certain that I ought to be distraught at his death. The stupid woman did not know my old bastard._ He drew his personal wand and considered ending the vile little elf before she even knew she was betrayed. _No, there are those that will miss the wretch._

Instead, he left her as she was for a moment. He cast strong privacy charms on the door and took off his borrowed eye and leg. He settled into his preferred chair so that he could relax before his transformation. Without additional polyjuice, he only needed ten minutes to transition back into his much younger and fitter self. 

With his own hands, he threw floo powder into the fire and called out, “Crouch House Study.”

Wormtail quickly appeared, “Crouch! What have you done this time?”

“Tell our master that my father is dead, but there is a risk that ministry buffoons will discover you there,” he said it flatly but wished for a friend with whom he could gloat.

“What do you mean, ‘there is a risk?’, with your father dead, there is a certainty that we will be discovered if we remain here!” he nearly shouted despite his hoarse voice.

“Wormtail!” his master called out from somewhere off behind the floo call. “What is it?”

“Master,” the traitor called out with a triumphant look in his direction, “your servant has failed you. He says that this place is no longer safe.”

His precious lord replied calmly, “Bring me to the floo and prepare for our departure.”

In moments, he was graced with the sight of his master in the floo. “Barty, tell me what has happened.”

“I dispatched my father, my lord,” he announce triumphantly. “However, I was not able to eliminate his corpse.” He bowed his head in sorrow. “While your clever ruse of illness will explain his death, there will be those that feel obligated to investigate.”

He nodded the heavy head of his unworthy vessel. “We will make our way to our next location before the scavengers descend,” he paused in his instruction and Barty leaned forward eagerly. “I will arrange to contact you once we are settled. Continue with your mission.”

“Yes, master,” was all he managed to breath out before the floo call ended. He turned his attention to the little wretch he had ensnared earlier. _There are risks that she could break free of the Imperious, I cannot leave her this way._

He thought to kill her, and the vision of her entrails brought him jubilation. _She would be missed, the useless whelp!_ Mind made up, he ended the Imperious curse but left her confounded.

Her bulbous eyes were bleary as she took him in, “Master Barty? Yous looks so well! Winky is joyed to see you!”

He sneered at her nonsense, “Winky, I’m overjoyed to see you as well. I have news, both happy and sad.” He held out his arms in mimicry of what he had seen from Potter. She stepped, slowly, into his awkward embrace. “My father was ill… you know this to be true?”

She nodded with her bulbous eyes full of tears. “Yes, Master Barty…”

“Perhaps, if he had allowed you to care for him,” he carefully spun a web of lies as Bella herself had taught him. “Perhaps, then… he might have recovered.”

She whimpered within his embrace, “Winky would have done anything to help Master Crouch get better.”

“I know, sweet Winky,” he assured her. “As you would do anything for me, the child you did not bare,” he smirked over her head as he echoed the words he had heard her whisper to him when she thought he slept.

“Yous my child, much as I could ever have,” she told him, patting his side.

“I’ll need your help, Winky,” he whispered trying to sound desperate. “You will help me?”

“Winky will help you, if she can,” she murmured.

He grinned wickedly, “I need you to remember, that you are my only family… I know that you have others that you care for… but you are all that I have.”

She leaned back in his lap and met his eyes with hers, “Winky has served the Crouch family since she first was born. Is there chance to serve the Crouch family still?”

He held back a laugh at her sentiment; _she makes it so easy to turn her to me that she will serve me for only the promise of a bond._ “That chance exists, but you will have to promise to keep my secrets.”

She was already nodding eagerly, “Winky still keeps the family secrets, just as she was bonded to do.”

“Good,” he told her, delighting in her magically influenced confusion. “Just remember to do so… after all, your other Hogwarts friends, they will not understand. You would lose them if they knew all the horrible things my father made you keep quiet. I would hate to see them curse you as he did.”

When she teared up, he drew her into his chest. Even as he tried to comfort her, he hated and despised her. _Your time will come, little minion of my father._

* * *

The morning silence echoed through The Burrow and weighed on Molly. _First few days after term, the quiet is blissful, but I’m ready to have my babies home again._ She sipped her tea and restlessly opened her ritual journal. She glared at the sketch of her latest circle configuration. _That should have done more than it did. The changes I made from my last attempt were completely in line with the Druidic Banishment Ritual Set._

She focused intently on comparing the two most recent rituals she had attempted. The rustling of pages and scratch of a quill filled the silence for long moments, and she failed to notice the beautiful sunrise outside her window. Indeed, she was so deep in thought that she screamed in fright at the press of lips to her cheek.

“Molly!” Arthur shouted back just as surprised at her outburst as she had been by his appearance. “I’m sorry, love,” he told her with a relieved laugh. “I didn’t realize you didn’t hear me.” He hugged her tight, and she let his familiar embrace sooth away the rest of her fright.

“Good morning, dear,” she said with a chuckle. “You’re up early.”

He shook his head, “Not so much as you think.” He nodded to the sun peeking in through the window. “I think you lost track of time, love. What are you working on?”

She sighed at his question and looked down at her notes still scattered across the table. She knew how much he loathed this particular project so she let her silence answer for her and changed the subject. “Would you like some breakfast before you go?”

“Molly,” his voice filled with regret. “I know I’ve been critical of all this, but…” He trailed off when she scurried over to the pot on the stove and started dishing up some oatmeal. “Molly.” She ignored him in favor of pouring him a cup of tea. “Molly!”

At his shout, she gave in and turned towards him. “Molly, love, this is dangerous.” After so many years, he knew that she would not stop just at the risk. “Molly, please, promise me that you’ll at least wait to try anything tangible until I get home.” 

She frowned in confusion, “Arthur, you can’t be in the ritual space with me. I don’t see what waiting until you get home will change.”

He held up his pocket watch, opened to the face Master Wadlow had given him as a wedding gift. “Every time you take that vessel into a circle, this shifts to mortal peril,” he set the watch aside and stepped close. With his hands on her shoulders, he pleaded, “We’ve both seen what loosing Pandora did to Xeno and Luna. Please don’t do that to us,” his voice broke and faltered.

She stepped in and wrapped her arms around him in comfort. “Arthur,” she reasoned. “I want that awful stain gone from our home. I hate having it anywhere near our little girl.”

His breath whispered through her hair, “I want it gone too, Molly. I want it destroyed the way it nearly destroyed Ginny, but I won’t risk your safety to get that.” He nestled closer to her, and his next words were a murmur into her ear. “I know that I’m no rituals scholar, but the magics you are molding are not meant to be done alone. Please, at least let me be here to help you in case it goes wrong.”

She squeezed him tightly before she pulled back to meet his eyes, “If you are here, there’s just as much risk to you as there is me.” She scrubbed her hands down her face in frustration. “I have wished so many times, seventy times seven wishes, that Pandora would not have died. This is only one more reason that I miss her.”

He must have realized that he had won as he picked up his cooled tea and sipped it. He crinkled his nose in distaste and cast a charm to warm it. “Perhaps, Albus Dumbledore would be able to help you?”

She warmed his oatmeal for him as she replied, “Arthur, surely he would have let me know if his research had turned anything up after Ginny’s rescue. He’s a very busy man, and I don’t want to bother him with our little problems.” She left unsaid her own insecurity at her half completed training.

“Of course, darling,” he sounded resigned. “Is there anyone else we could reach out to?”

She shook her head, “That we could trust to not think ill of our Ginny for having such darkness stain her magic?” She breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded in reluctant agreement. 

“Alright…” he sat at the table to eat. “But you will wait for me before you try again with your ritual?”

She nodded and smiled to reassure him. “It won’t be tonight. I need to review the results from my last attempt… or lack of results, I should say.”

“Don’t you always say that, in ritual, even nothing is a result that can be examined?” He encouraged her as he ate his simple breakfast.

“You’re a dear man, Arthur,” her love for him warmed her heart. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Ah, now, Mollywobbles,” he grinned at her. “I thought we settled this our first year of marriage. I’m the lucky one, and, as the man of the house, I’ll hear no further argument from you on the subject.”

His exaggerated firmness made her laugh aloud, “Of course, husband… How could I forget?” She grinned happily at him, her frustration all but forgotten in the moment.

It was only after he flooed away that his wisdom really struck her. She hummed as she cleared the table. Suddenly, she froze, not even noticing that she stuck her thumb in a glob of cold oatmeal. _What if there was a result from the last ritual but I missed it because it wasn’t what I expected?_ Her heart sped up in excitement at the thought. _I wonder if Xeno will let me borrow his_ _pensieve_ _?_

It took mere moments for her to collect her things and place her floo call. With her neighbor’s kind agreement, she rushed out the door and apperated away. Forgotten, in her haste, was a pile of dirty dishes and a partial pot of cold oatmeal.

* * *

The morning after Valentine’s Day, Tracey woke before the rest of her roommates. She groggily listened to Pansy’s snores and Milicent’s sleepy murmurs as she thought back on the prior evening. _It certainly wasn’t the first time Daphne cried on my shoulder like that. She’s always been so bad about holding things in until she breaks._

She sighed worriedly. _I just wonder if that’s really all it was this time. I don’t see how getting a boyfriend and a successful book project would be enough to overwhelm her like that._ The light breathing from the bed next to hers and the sounds of the other girls sleeping threatened to send her back into slumber.

Instead, she rose and gathered her clothes for the day. Before heading for a shower, she cast a silencing spell on her feet. She eyed Milicent and Pansy suspiciously and set protection charms on her bed, trunk and friend. _Let’s not make anything too easy for them if they wake feeling malicious._

When she got back to the room, her hair was still wet, but she was otherwise ready for the day. Pansy and Milicent were gone, but Daphne still slumbered. She inspected her belongings quickly before she attended to her hair. In a few minutes, she was ready to head down to breakfast. As a last courtesy to her friend, she deactivated the alarm charm she normally set to keep her from sleeping in. 

The halls were lightly traveled, and the Great Hall did not echo with the usual noise of breakfast. Habit had her feet traveling to the Slytherin table, but she saw that Pansy and Milicent were the only ones there. She slowed her steps, but her thoughts sped through her mind. She hated to let them chase her from the hall because she knew they would take it as a sign of weakness. 

“Tracey?” Hermione’s voice saved her from a bad decision. “It’s a supposed to be a nice day, and Ginny and I were going to take some breakfast outside to enjoy the sunrise. Would you like to join us?”

She smiled at the kindness, “That sounds lovely.”

The younger redhead already had a basket with one lid open, “I borrowed this from my brothers. We’d have gone down to the kitchen, but they’ve never told me how to get there.”

She shrugged, “This will work quite well, I should think.” They walked over to the Gryffindor table and selected some fruits, cheeses and pastries. By the time she left the hall with them, she had forgotten the sour scowls of her Slytherin roommates at the table.

The sun was just lightening the sky when they exited the castle. The girls quickly found a spot near Black Lake for their blanket and basket. They served themselves in companionable silence for the first few minutes. 

“I can’t remember the last time I sat to watch the sun rise,” Ginny whispered. “Maybe with my mum, before I started Hogwarts?”

“Last summer, I went to France for vacation with my parents,” Hermione reminisced with a smile. “The second night, I stayed up reading. I watched the sunrise before I went to sleep.”

Tracey laughed lightly, “Somehow, I can imagine that happening more than once for you!” The three girls sat together, intermittently admiring the glow of colors on the lake and chatting about inconsequential things. By the time she spied Harry walking out toward them, they had finished everything they brought. 

“Morning, Hermione,” he sank down on the edge of the blanket. “Ginny, Tracey… Is Daphne alright?” He looked to her with that last question.

“She’s ok,” she reassured him. “She’s just sleeping in.”

Ginny scrounged through the basket and found nothing to offer him. “Sorry Harry, if you’re hungry. We’ve already eaten everything we brought out.”

He shrugged, and Tracey noticed that he looked oddly pale and tired. “Maybe, your elf friend could bring you some tea, at least?” she suggested. “It might do you good.”

He shook his head. “Dobby is away, busy with something for the Headmaster, and Winky…” He looked to Hermione with his news, “Mr. Crouch died last night. I don’t think we ought to bother her this early in case she managed to get some sleep.”

This announcement meant nothing her, but plainly it was important. Ginny and Hermione both gasped. “The poor girl!” Ginny moaned. “He may have been awful to her but…”

With a click, she understood, “Her former master died? That must be so hard on her.” Though it was Dobby that usually brought Daphne, and her by extension, cookies, she knew from gossip that Winky had become a fixture in the Gryffindor common room.

Harry nodded, “He’d been ill, but he came onto the grounds last night. He was out of his head when Viktor and I found him…” Hermione wrapped him up in a hug that seemed to help him.

They all fell into a solemn silence for a moment, but it was broken when Viktor Krum started their way. Harry sent him a tense wave but avoided meeting his eyes. Despite their usual camaraderie, he seemed reluctant to talk to him. His best friend decided to respect his unspoken wish.

“I think I’ll go say good morning to Viktor,” Hermione told them as she rose.

Ginny stood as well and began gathering their picnic blanket and basket, “I need to go meet Luna in the library. We’re working on a project for charms class.” She looked solemnly at Harry, a question in her eyes.

Before he could make his own excuses, Tracey asked, “Harry, could I talk to you for a few minutes?”

“Alright,” he glanced sideways at her in confusion. “Did you want to walk a bit?”

Remembering that he had not yet eaten, she suggested, “How about we walk the long way to the Great Hall so that you can get breakfast?”

He sent her a grateful smile but still seemed solemn. “Harry,” she asked. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

His jerky nod was unconvincing. “Yeah, I… uh… Last night, Professor Moody sent Viktor and me for help, but we didn’t get back quickly enough. It’s hard to think of being too late.”

“I think if you couldn’t get help quickly enough, then no one else could have either,” she consoled. “I know that I’d choose you for a rescuer over anyone else.”

He gave her a wan smile, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

They meandered quietly for a few moments, but the silence got oppressive. Impulsively, she blurted out, “Do you really mean to court Daphne?”

He startled with the sudden question and stopped to look at her, “Is there a reason that I shouldn’t?”

She wanted to curse everyone else in his life for his apparent ignorance of their world, “I… I didn’t mean it that way, exactly.” She faltered for a heartbeat, “When you learned about the courting gifts, did no one tell you that you would usually get permission from the girl before giving them? Set some understanding?”

“No, I mean… muggles don’t really have an equivalent…” he flushed and avoided her gaze.

“I know, Harry,” she pointed out. “I’m a half-blood too.” She decided that, in his shoes, she would want candor. “It’s true that you’re not just any half-blood, and people will probably not criticize Daphne too heavily for consorting with you. But you need to understand that, for the old pureblood families, these gifts aren’t just something quaint to give. They are a statement of intent. Before you go any further, you should make sure that you and Daphne agree on what you want from each other.”

He dragged his hand through his messy hair in aggravation. “Doesn’t it strike you as mad that so many people are trying to pair us off together permanently?”

“You are the one that sent that message when you got Daphne parchment and wood for Yule, then linen and wood for Valentine’s. For families that follow these traditions, you’re only four gifts away from a gemstone. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be to that point before we sit our OWLs.”

He clenched his eyes shut, “I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Talk to Daphne,” she reiterated. “I think you both need it.”

They started back toward the castle in silence. When they approached the juncture that would take her back to the dungeons, she wished him a good day. As he mumbled back and walked on alone, she stood for another moment and watched him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did add back the little side plot that I had eliminated, but, with the current story structure, the chapter count may end up at 21 rather than 24. I'll make the adjustment (if necessary) once I get the last of outline shuffle completed next week.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry stepped back into the castle from the brisk chill of the February day with his Firebolt in one hand. Viktor walked with him carrying a prototype broom without badging. Though they had brushed off and used a few cleaning charms, they each still looked like they had been dragged across the Quidditch pitch.

“I thank you, Harry, for agreeing to race with me today. I only wish I had done so with usual broom.” He glowered at the broom in his hand. “I will write company and explain that new broom does not pull properly from dives.”

Harry laughed and agreed with his severe understatement. Despite his attempt to forget the previous night, he was glad that Viktor had sought him out. “Well, perhaps telling them how they fared against a market Firebolt will inspire them to fix the issues.”

“Perhaps,” he chuckled. “Afterall, a bit of competition can be motivating.”

The two walked along in companionable quiet for a few moments before Viktor veered into an empty receiving room on the first floor. “Is everything alright?” he asked the older boy he was coming to think of as a friend.

“I am not sure,” he started to out. The uncertainty made him worry that he would bring up their failure to save Mr. Crouch. Instead, he continued, “Are you… romantic… with Hermione?”

He cringed at further interest into his non-existent love life. “Hermione is,” he scrambled for the right words. “Hermione is the best and most loyal friend that I have ever had or could imagine ever having.” He closed his eyes to organize his thoughts. He could not bring himself to lie to his new friend. “I think that the person that earns her love will be the luckiest person in the world, and I hope that person is worthy of her.”

Viktor pierced him with a searching gaze. He tried desperately to hold to the middle ground he had chosen. “I agree, that one must be most excellent person to win her heart. I only hope that, whoever that is, they treat it as purest treasure that it is.”

Thinking of her and Daphne, he nodded his agreement. “Surely anyone that Hermione will love will be clever enough to recognize and appreciate the privilege.”

“Dah,” he replied. “Surely that will be the case.” He leaned back against the door jam and stared up at the ceiling. “Should they not appreciate, I think that her friends will educate…” When they amiably parted ways a few minutes later, Harry was still confused.

When he stood alone in front of the library doors, he forced himself to focus on the schoolwork he needed to finish rather than the many people taking an interest in his love life. _I finished potions last week. Daphne even thought my essay was worthwhile. I think my charms paper is alright, but I might want suggestions to gloss it up a bit. Transfiguration is the biggest one…_

He walked into the room scanning for his Daphne and Hermione. _There!_ He cringed a little, _I wish they weren’t sitting with Tracey, but it’s not her fault that Sirius arranged for that charm. I could hardly tell her or anyone else that my fugitive godfather bought my fake girlfriend a courting gift._

He summoned his Gryffindor courage and marched over to the table. “Hullo,” he told them all. He dropped a peck onto the top of Daphne’s blonde hair before he pulled out a chair and sat. Once they echoed his greeting, he pulled out his homework for Professor McGonagall. 

He glanced around the table. “Have you completed your essay on the dangers of human to animal transfiguration?”

Tracey and Hermione nodded, but Daphne shook her head. “I was finishing up our charms essay before I started on that one. Do you have any good references for it?”

He flushed at her apparently sincere question. Afterall, most people would not ask him for help on an essay. “I actually was thinking about covering Professor Moody’s transfiguration of Draco into a ferret.”

She grimaced at the reminder. “I think that might be a reasonable topic, but it’s an odd way to handle a undisciplined child…. I would hate to cover the same topic as you. People might think we were copying each other’s work.” She chewed on her pretty bottom lip.

“You could write your essay on the animagus reversal spell?” Hermione suggested. “It’s not exactly the topic she requested, but it’s related to be sure. And you might find that the reason transfiguration as punishment is banned is related to that spell.”

He raised his brows at the suggestion, “You sound like you know something about it?”

She smirked at him and slid a book across the table. “This says that any forcible transfiguration from animal to human is disorienting and overwhelmingly unpleasant. I should think that you could both find some interesting points from the two perspectives you’re looking toward.” Her half smile stretched into a full one, “and you can share what you find so that we all know why these are things that our Professors consider taboo.”

He arranged the book so that he and Daphne could both read it. As they tilted their heads toward each other, he forced himself to ignore her lightly feminine scent. _I wonder if real boyfriends have trouble concentrating when they study with their girlfriends?_ Very conscious of their company and their true relationship, he noted down the relevant information from the text as well as the book and page number.

“It’s a pity that I don’t know any animagus I could interview for this essay,” Daphne commented idly. “My mum said she started the process, but when her meditations showed her form as a hawk she gave it up. She’s terrified of heights.” She smiled, “She used that story on Astoria when she was afraid of swimming.”

“I can understand your sister on that one,” he shot Hermione a fond look. “But sometimes people can accomplish amazing things when they conquer their fears.”

His friend blushed and kicked him under table. At the obviously private message being passed at their table, Tracey grinned at Daphne. “Do you think people feel this out of the conversation when we do things like that?”

Hermione abandoned her normal dignity to make a face at her, “Yes, I’m quite certain that’s why we’re the only ones at a six person table. We’re a matched set, the four of us.”

They all laughed at her comment, but Harry worried a little as Daphne clenched the hand in her lap. _I wonder if she feels as bad about lying to Tracey as I do about lying to Ron?_ His thoughts on that swirled with ideas on her paper and questions about his father’s animagus journey. 

“I wonder how many people stop learning to be animagus when they find out what animal they’ll be?” he mused aloud. 

“Or when they realize how much there is still to go after that point?” Tracey pondered. “People say that the greater the size difference between yourself and your form, the harder and riskier the transformation. That, and forms that are drastically different from humans…”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the suggestion, “You mean if your form was a snake it would be harder to learn than if it was a cat?”

“I would imagine,” Daphne relaxed into their discussion, “that it would take a lot of motivation for any animagus transformation… Mum said that it would have been impossible for her to continue her path to transform without conquering her fear because you have to really want to change. Something elemental to you has to want to take that form. It can’t just be a challenge or an interesting project.”

Her own comment seemed to inspire a thought, and she began taking notes on her parchment. For Harry, he found himself proud of his father and godfather. _Their friendship and loyalty to Remus gave them the motivation to pursue their forms. The more I learn, the more I realize how impressive a feat it was._ When his traitorous mind tried to offer up questions about Peter, he shoved them aside to avoid the lurching pit in his stomach that thoughts of him always brought.

The four worked quietly for a while, sporadically offering up questions or reading out loud an interesting passage in their separate books. Tracey finished her paper and stood with an exaggerated stretch. He felt her eyes on his and looked up to see her giving him raised eyebrows. 

Remembering their conversation from earlier, he shook his head. _The conversation we need to have isn’t going to go the way she thinks, but she is right that it needs to happen._ He glanced at Daphne, studiously working on her paper.

Tracey seemed to take a message from his expressions and decided to take action, “Hermione, would you help me with something, please?”

Clearly baffled, she raised her curly head and blinked away her concentration. “Certainly, Tracey. How can I help?”

“I think it’s best that I show you,” she replied. Before any of them could interject, she lifted her bag and turned toward the door. “I appreciate it,” she said, assuming that she would be followed. “We’ll catch up with you later?” Still confused, Hermione followed her away from the library table. Harry imagined the excuse she might give once they were away and laughed a little to himself. 

“What was that about?” Daphne asked apparently bewildered.

He felt his cheeks flush and admitted, “She just wanted to make sure we talked…”

As he floundered for how to start, she eyed him suspiciously, “Why?”

“Because, this morning she explained what people will think about us… after the charm yesterday…” He stumbled over his words. _Maybe I’ve not gotten as good at secrets as I thought._ He started over, “Tracey and I talked this morning. Before that, I didn’t know that people’s expectations with the old courting gifts might cause you a problem.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled at him. “I’m relieved that she talked to you. I was trying to figure out how to… say something…” She reached out and took his hand. “When you gave me that parchment set at Yule, I thought you were just being… romantic. But when I saw the charm yesterday, I really wondered if you and I had… mis-communicated somehow.”

He knew she was guarding her words in case they were overheard, but he was still grateful for them to clear the air. _Wish I could tell her that I was as surprised as she was when that box appeared._ Instead, he fidgeted with her fingers were they rested on his. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I found out about traditional wizard courting after I asked you to the ball. I didn’t realize that there was more to it than just a list of things to give someone.”

The look she gave him was so gently understanding that the guilt over his lies crawled back out from where he had buried it. “Most people’s opinions don’t matter when it comes down to it, Harry, so long as you and I understand each other,” she continued when he gave her a weak smile. “If someone that does matter, like my father or someone, asks about the gifts, I’ll tell them we decided to slow things down. Alright?”

The thought of her father asking about him added a layer to his nervousness, but he agreed. He stared down at their linked hands for a moment before he remembered a question he had wanted to ask, “Daphne… I understand why parchment would have been a courting gift, but why linen?”

* * *

Hector Herald overbalanced coming out of his office floo on Wednesday morning. It had already been a long week, and his office was short two people this week. _Penelope has done good work on the Compendium, but I wouldn’t have thought I would come to rely on her so much around the office. With her in Scotland and Georgina out with the baby, I’m just lucky my wife’s gone to her mother’s with the hours I have to keep._

The sun would rise in another hour, but he already felt behind on his day. He set up some coffee to brew and frowned at the arrangement of papers and manuscripts on his desk. _I could have sworn I put all that away before I left last night._ He curled his fingers a little tighter on his wand and stepped closer. 

“Good morning, Mr. Herald,” a snidely courteous voice from the doorway had him whirling into a defensive stance with a curse on his lips. “Oh, my! Aren’t we a bit jumpy in the mornings?” Rita Skeeter walked the rest of the way into his office.

“Miss Skeeter, what are you doing here?” he asked curtly, still trying to get his heart back into a rhythm.

“Oh, Hector, may I call you Hector?” she continued without an answer. “I wanted to help you rectify a mistake that your office made. I took the liberty of claiming your first appointment this morning just to make sure we got the misunderstanding cleared up.”

He blinked in bemusement but decided to play along for a moment. _Perhaps she’ll say her piece and be gone quickly._ “I see. I would have thought that I would notice your appointment on my calendar last night before I left,” he trailed off, leaving the implication that she was lying unspoken. “Would you care for some coffee while we talk?”

“Thank you,” she simpered. When he stood to serve them both, she was plainly surprised. “Surely you have an assistant for such things, Hector?”

He passed her the cup. “Miss Skeeter,” he started reflexively, trying to put their conversation on a more professional footing. “I am running the office alone this week, as someone with your capacity for the news would surely know.” He sipped his bitter brew gratefully. “So, what had you decide to pay me a visit this morning?”

Her smile turned sharp and vicious, “As I said, there was a mistake.” She pulled a single page of parchment from her handbag. “I’m sure that this could not be something you authorized.” He took the letter and a tense silent fell as he read it.

> Miss Skeeter,
> 
> Arbour Green appreciates your interest in being a part of our publication catalog. However, your biography of Albus Dumbledore appears to skip over important events, miss some key aspects of balance and offer incomplete documentation for your more inflammatory claims. Should you complete the manuscript to include a more nuanced, credible and complete biography; we will be able to give it further consideration.
> 
> At such time, please submit the manuscript through our standard submissions process as outlined in the enclosure.
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Hector Herald
> 
> Managing Editor
> 
> Arbour Green Publications

He took another bracing drink of his coffee before he looked up at her. She sat, uninvited, in a conjured chair sipping her coffee smugly. “I understand why you are here, now.” She smiled expectantly as he continued, “but I could have spared you a visit had you let me know your concerns over floo.”

“Oh, well,” she waved her manicured hand dismissively. “It was no bother, Hector, really.”

He passed her back the letter, “I wrote that letter personally, Miss Skeeter, as your manuscript had found itself in a stack of screened submissions on my desk.”

She froze and crushed the parchment in her hand. “You… You rejected my book?”

“As I said, it did not include sufficient credible documentation for your more inflammatory claims or an appropriately balanced portrayal of our Chief Wizard.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “To be blunt, Miss Skeeter, it was far more gossip than content. Had you submitted it through our normal process, you would have gotten a more thorough review and suggestions for revisions. If you wish to do that, I can assign a member of our editorial staff to work with you,” he offered.

Unimpressed with his generosity, she glared, “Arbour Green published my other two books without any alterations. Mortimer knew the value of my work and never attempted to pawn me off onto some intern! Both of my other books sold out in days. The out of print copies sell for twice the cover price!”

Out of patience with her ego, he interrupted her, “You’re overlooking the fact that they were allowed to go out of print because of threats of multiple lawsuits. Not least of which came from Nobby Leach’s daughter and Eugenia Jenkin’s husband. Mortimer was a fool to let you have your head on those projects and nearly ruined this publishing house. It’s not something that I will allow to happen under my leadership.”

“How dare you!” she snarled. “I’ve half a mind to ruin you just for your disrespect. Never doubt that I can!”

“Oh?” he naturally calmed in the face of her anger. It was a skill that Paige and Greengrass had highlighted in their decision to promote him. “Are you planning to blackmail me as you did Mortimer? I don’t think so, Rita,” he dropped the pretense of professionalism. “You’re a one note song, and that melody will not play in this office. Not with me behind that desk.”

“You think you can stand tall where so many others have folded?” she asked rising to her feet. “Everyone has secrets, Hector! You’ll regret this when yours start coming to light.”

He kept his hand on his wand until he heard the front door of the office slam. It was only in the aftermath of their confrontation that he let himself feel angry. _That witch won’t be happy until she controls or ruins everyone in our society._ He eyed the manuscript that she had placed on his desk with disgust and pulled out a blank parchment.

When the copy editor that was covering the front desk arrived two hours later, there was no evidence of their unwelcome visitor. Hector’s coffee had grown cold next to his pile of outgoing correspondence. She quietly removed the three thin pieces of post but needed both hands to lift the package on the bottom of the stack.

It was addressed simply:

> Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster
> 
> Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

* * *

“Oh, Hermione, your cloak is beautiful!” Fleur exclaimed happily. “I have not seen such a rich color paired with thunderbird trims. I will have to look for something like it.”

“Thank you,” she replied in her careful but accented french. “It is very warm which is nice for the cold winds here.”

“I can understand needing it here,” she shivered despite the fact that they were not yet out of the castle. “Where I live in France, I would not need such winter cloak, but I will work for Gringotts after school.”

“Do you know where they will have you working?” she asked with interest. “I know they have several branches, but I’ve only been to the Hogmeade office and the London bank in Diagon Alley.”

They paused their conversation as the rest of their group arrived in the Entrance Hall. Professor Sinistra chatted with Daphne and Penelope as they came in from outside. Harry and Viktor walked in from the Great Hall followed by Headmaster Maxime. 

She sent her friends a smile and switched to speaking English, “It seems we’re only missing Cedric for the invocation? Will Tracey be meeting us?” She directed her question to Daphne.

“Tracey walked out to the lake with Colin,” she smiled. “There’s enough interest in this that she wanted to make sure that he could get set up for photos without issue. I think Professor Babbling and a few others are also out by the lake to make sure that no one had moved our elemental rune stones.”

Cedric and Cho joined the gathering with apologies for being tardy. Hermione smirked at his mussed hair and her flushed cheeks. _I think we all know what kept them._ Penelope stepped forward to address them.

“On behalf of Arbour Green, I would like to thank you for letting us document this invocation of blessing for the second task,” she smiled in apparent excitement. “I’ve not had a chance to see a traditional blessing ritual before, so I very much look forward to it.”

Hermione returned her smile and felt a kinship with the other muggle born girl. _This is an exciting opportunity for several of us. It’s one thing to read about it in Daphne’s mum’s column. It’ll be something else to be there._

Professor Sinistra tilted a head to acknowledge her former student but seemed confused. “Wasn’t the Daily Prophet invited to cover this event as well?”

All four champions frowned disagreeably at the question. To Hermione’s surprise, it was Headmaster Dumbledore that answered. He stepped into the hall accompanied by Headmaster Karkaroff and Professor McGonagall. “I don’t think we need wait for The Prophet’s representative. We extended the invitation, but they were not obligated to accept.” His mischievous smile and her head of house’s smug smirk suggested that there was reason they were unburdened by Skeeter’s cloying presence. She decided to enjoy it and question the situation later. 

Their headmaster addressed Professor Sinistra. “Aurora, I understand that you will be leading us this evening?”

She nodded, “I have that honor, Headmaster. Four of our seventh years, taking both NEWT Runes and Astronomy, helped design our ritual for this evening.” She glanced around the hall, “In fact, I think it best that we head to the lake so that we are in place at gloaming.”

The group trailed out into the cool evening, and Viktor fell into step beside her. “At lakeside, you will stand with me?” He must have realized that his question surprised her, “I had hoped my mother would be here, but international portkey to Hogsmeade was not available. She will only be here in morning.”

Comprehension dawned, “Of course I will stand with you, Viktor. I’m honored to be asked.”

Ahead of them, she saw Fleur joined by a dignified looking couple and a little girl. The beauty of the woman and girl told her that they were all family. “I’ve not considered the challenges of international magical travel. Have a you had a chance to compare it to muggle options?”

“Not me, but cousin says both have benefits and difficulties,” he shrugged. “Likely had my mother planned to take muggle transit she could have arrived today for invocation.” He smiled at her, “I will not be only champion with friend standing in at blessing.”

She followed his eyes to Harry and Daphne then past them to where Cedric was looking around in confusion. “Seems that Fleur may be the only one with family here tonight. I wonder where Cedric’s father is?”

Her companion had no answer, of course. As they approached the lake, she smiled in surprise to find Arthur Weasley chatting with Amos Diggory and Ludo Bagman at the dock. “Seems I have my answer,” she murmured.

Ginny and Ron stood to one side of their father and huddled into their cloaks as the temperature dropped. “Good of the other students to stay back from ceremony,” Viktor rumbled out. “Is all of Hogwarts here to watch us?”

She laughed at his question but nodded, “It appears so.” Students were milling around or meandering up paths to the lake. They joined Harry and Daphne to greet Arthur. Introductions were exchanged even as the NEWTs students conferred with Professors Sinistra and Babbling.

“Well, Harry,” Arthur began. “I hope you don’t mind, but when Amos told me about the invocation, I thought of you.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I know you’re closer to Molly, but I can stand with you if you like.”

Ron looked oddly eager at the idea, but Harry shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Weasley, but Remus said he would be here.”

Rather than be offended, he grinned warmly. “Then be here, he will. I’m glad you have each other.”

As though his comment summoned him, their tired looking former professor approached with a handsome black and brown dog on a leash. Despite his bronze ear and tail, Hermione swore he looked very familiar. She refrained from gawking as Harry hugged Remus.

More introductions circled around before they were all called to order by their Professor. Hermione walked with Viktor to the flagstone carved with the rune for air. He shrugged out of his cloak and passed it to a fellow Durmstrang student that she did not know. He toed off his shoes and stepped into place in only an undyed linen tunic and pants.

 _Glad I don’t have to be in magically inert fabrics for this. Poor Harry looks miserable, and I’m sure I just saw Viktor flinch._ She deliberately ignored the sneer from Headmaster Karkaroff as she stepped into the place marked for family. He stood in the place for mentor, and, with Viktor on the third point, they formed a triangle.

With the sun’s rays diffracting into the clouds as it set, Professor Sinistra called out the beginning of the ritual.

> Magic, we stand before you and beseech you.
> 
> Grant blessings of courage, clarity and skill upon our champions.
> 
> In place of Fire, Water, Earth, and Air, we offer up our best
> 
> These that study you, honor you, and hold you as precious
> 
> Bless their journey and purpose.

She held up her arms to greet the cold wind that blew through them and rippled the glassy surface of the lake. Before the ceremony, Hermione wondered how they would know the simple blessing was heard. At the moment the sun dropped completely below the horizon, she felt a warm glow of magic flow through her. 

She was absorbed in an introspective mood when they disbanded. Students gathered around to greet their former DADA professor, and the champions chatted about the cold and joked about finding warmer inert fabrics. Before she could join Ron and Harry, Daphne stepped up to her. 

“Hermione, Professor McGonagall wants to see us inside,” her voice was low in respect for her mood. 

“Alright, shall we walk together?” she waved quietly to Viktor and went inside with her girlfriend. On their way, they saw Fleur’s mother and sister being led by Cho. _How odd, I wonder what they need all five of us for?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry is layering secrets on top of secrets. It's making for an interesting character study for me. :-)


	11. Chapter 11

Harry stood in Hermione’s study room and surveyed his gear for the second task. He wished for one of his best friend’s lists and worried that she was nowhere to be seen. The poached egg and toast that Dobby had coaxed down him at breakfast that morning may as well have been a lead weight in his stomach.

“No one has seen her,” Ron announced as he burst into the room. “I think we’ll have to get you ready without her.”

He frowned, “I don’t…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I don’t like this. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plan?” he chortled. “Harry, when have we ever done these sorts of things with a plan?” He fidgeted with his diving knife on the table. “I think getting a girl has killed your nerve, mate!”

He took the knife from him and fastened it to his calf. “Just cause you and Lavender broke up doesn’t mean we all need to be single, you know.”

Ron took his grousing in stride. “Not saying that. I’m just saying that you usually improvise with all this stuff, and you’re never this nervous.”

“Ha!” he barked out a laugh. “I get nervous all the time. When have you ever seen me eat before a quidditch match?”

“Well sure,” he acknowledged the point. “But when it really matters… when the stakes are life and death… We barrel right into it and come through just fine.”

“I’ve gotten lucky a few times, Ron,” he dismissed. “Just lucky.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “I’m just saying that, when you get down there, don’t cling so hard to this plan that you ignore your gut.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Could you help me make sure I get everything?” Agreeably, he passed him the expandable pouch and belt. As he fastened it loosely around his waist, the other boy gathered up the gillyweed. 

“Why do you need so much of this stuff?” he asked. “I thought that there was only so much you could take at a time.”

He shoved the large bundle into its plastic bag. “I shouldn’t need so much, but it doesn’t hurt to take extra.”

His friend shrugged and held up an awkward looking leather strap. “What’s this for?”

Harry flushed, “It’s uh… in case whatever I have to retrieve is too large to swim with…” _Pretty sure I’m not supposed to know that Daphne is what I’m supposed to bring back… though I wonder if that’s still their plan… we only assumed…_ His nerves twisted up in his stomach again, and he got frustrated with himself.

He shoved the leather harness into his pouch and closed it. “You ready?” he snapped at Ron as he swirled his outer robe over his wetsuit with a flourish. 

His friend’s laughter chased him out of the room, “Harry! You’re forgetting your wand!”

* * *

Cedric breathed out a sigh of relief at the lakeside when his father swaggered over from a conversation with Mr. Bagman. “All set, my boy?” he grinned.

“I’m as ready as I can be, Dad,” he acknowledged. “I, uh, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be fetching from down below, but…”

“Whatever it is, you’ll be first at it, I’m sure,” he wished he could share his father’s confidence.

He heard Fleur ask from the other side of the tent, “But where is Gabrielle? I wished for hug for good luck.”

His stomach sank at her question, “Dad?” His father’s smile fell away. “Where is Cho? Have you seen her?”

“No, son,” he answered. “But surely she’s just taking extra time to pretty up for the pictures when you win this round.” He sounded unconvinced by his own words.

Viktor and Harry entered the tent together with matching expressions of pinched worry. Cedric ignored his father’s hired coach as he approached his fellow champions. “Who else is missing, Harry?” he asked without prelude.

“Hermione and Daphne are not here,” Viktor answered for him. “Harry knew that Daphne had commitment, but Hermione said nothing to anyone.”

Fleur joined them, “My sister is not here, but my parents are not surprised or angry.” She sent them both a heated glare. “Is anyone else missing?”

“Cedric’s girlfriend,” his father spoke up before he could. “Surely they wouldn’t put unentered children at risk in this contest?”

His father’s skeptical outrage almost reassured him until he met Harry’s eyes. “Just like they would never let a carnage of dementors swarm during a quidditch match?” he muttered bitterly.

They all stared at each other before Fleur broke the tense quiet. “My sister is only eight years old, and Veela do not do well in cold or water.” Tears filled her eyes, “Please, tell me they would not put my sister under that water.”

“Gabrielle will make it out of there, Fleur,” Harry said it firmly. “We’ll make sure of it.” He sounded so confident that Cedric’s heart hurt a bit. He met Viktor’s eyes worriedly. _Please, tell me you have a way to keep Harry from doing something reckless,_ he pleaded. Viktor’s severe expression did not reassure him.

Ludo Bagman’s voice buzzed in his ears as the pompous man announced the task. Cedric shivered in the wind once he shed his outer robe. He, Viktor and Fleur were all wearing ordinary swim costumes. They all glanced enviously at the much warmer looking long suit Harry stood in. _Where on earth did he find all that?_ Suddenly, he was feeling under-prepared despite his coaching. 

At the cue to start, he waded into the shockingly cold water and cast his bubble head charm. He was reassured when Fleur did the same, but the partial shark transfiguration from Krum was particularly impressive. Harry went further out into the water, but Cedric paid him little mind at that point. _Our research says the village is this way,_ he started out. He swam vigorously and was relieved to find that the cold was less noticeable once he began moving.

Viktor and Harry both passed him quickly, but Cedric continued his steady pace. In the bubble head charm, it was important to conserve his air so that he would not have to surface and recast it. At first, Fleur kept pace with him, but she dropped deeper in the water after a few moments. _Don’t!_ She kept her gaze straight ahead and swam faster without the drag of the mid-depth current he was fighting. 

It ought to have worried him to be the so far behind the others, but Cedric kept swimming. As he feared, he quickly caught back up to Fleur as she battled a nest of grindylows. He transfigured the water into stones that he sent at the creatures, but they were undeterred.

Her frightened eyes met his and he tapped his finger gently towards his bubble. She shook her head and tears fell. _She’s already running out of air? Bloody hell!_ She kicked at a grindylow that managed to gash her foot in retribution. Frantically, she gestured toward the mervillage and mouthed, “Go!”

Obediently, he moved on. In the quiet water, he stretched his arms out before him and noticed that his hand seemed pale and gray. _That’s a bit odd…_ His thoughts were sluggish, but he kept moving. The current changed oddly, and he saw the forms of the mervillage before him. 

A shadow of a half-shark towing something had him shaking his head in bemusement. Instinctively, he got out of the way of a predator before he could be hurt. Within the village, he swam along to find Cho and a blond girl tied to poles and guarded by Merpeople. 

Oddly, Harry was still there and gesticulating wildly to the armed guards. _Is that Daphne Greengrass fastened to his back?_ Cedric began to worry as his thoughts flowed like cold honey. He checked the timer that his coach had given him. _Only a few more minutes, I need to get Cho and get moving before I run out of air._

He caught Harry’s attention and tapped his wrist where his timer rested. Instead of nodding in agreement, he gestured to the little girl. _Something… Something I should be worried about?_ He pointed at his own bubble head charm and moved to grab Cho. She was tied, but his schoolmate helped him cut her free. He got a little annoyed when Harry pulled and tugged on his wrist but, as he kicked away, his girlfriend’s still form came along. 

The younger boy nodded and held up something that was almost as gray as his own hands. He folded Cho’s hand around it. Cedric shrugged disinterestedly at that and began to swim back for the dock. He pulled Cho along with him and swam backwards so he could admire her pretty face.

* * *

Harry worried as Cedric swam away. His hands had been stiff and gray as he tied Cho’s wrist to his. _Something seemed very off about him._ In the back of his mind, words like hyperthermia and hypoxia echoed in Hermione’s voice. _I’ll just have to hope he makes it back ok._

With Daphne as a reassuring weight on his back, he started toward the girl that looked like a miniature Fleur. The merpeople threatened and postured, but he bared his teeth at them in a silent snarl. They reluctantly let him approach but remained on guard with several looking back at the entrance to village. _Probably wondering where Fleur is…_

Her blond hair drifted in a cloud around her face, and Harry wished that someone would have tied it back like Daphne and Hermione’s. He cut a glance back toward the dock, but there was still no sign of Fleur. _I can’t wait anymore. She’s got the same pallor that Cedric did._ His mind made up, he pulled out his wand and his knife. 

The guards postured with their spears and shields, but he transfigured one spear into a teapot and another into a beetle that promptly drowned. He cursed internally as he scratched the little girl’s wrist with his knife. _Guess it’s good that Viktor is long gone given what he said about his shark transfiguration._ He used a scrap of rope to secure the little Delacour to him and covered his retreat with his wand.

The swim back was much slower than the trip out. One hand, still clutching his knife, towed the little girl. His other hand freely steered him once he put his wand away. While his passengers did not add a weighty burden to his trip, they did drag in the water. _At least the currents are flowing with me on the way back._

In his head, he started ticking away the time. _I’m sure that the hour has passed by now…_ He kept swimming, unconcerned about his points. _I did what I could do,_ he assured himself. _Is that… Cedric is not far ahead of me? Perhaps less time had passed than I thought._

He put on a burst of speed with his webbed feet. Happily, he gained on his friend for a moment. Suddenly, the burden on his back twitched. _Daphne?_ He cast his eyes upward. _Please don’t be waking up! I’m too far from the surface!_

Her formerly bouyant weight went stiff in panic. She struggled against the harness that secured her to his back. Suddenly, she yanked all three of them down toward the dark depths. 

Harry flailed desperately to regain control of their direction. In his desperation, he lost his grip on his dive knife. He kicked to keep them from sinking and fumbled with his one free hand. His stiff fingers met the plastic bag of extra gillyweed, but another panicked jerk from his back had him losing it. 

Bubbles flowed from his mouth as he tried to scream. Suddenly, they all heaved to one side. He tried to fight the trajectory, but a slim hand snatched the bag from the flowing current. _Daphne!_ He saw her hands remove two pieces of gillyweed from the bag and separate them.

One piece went into Little Fleur’s mouth, and another was stuffed into his cheek. A third and fourth piece, she brought behind his head. _Please, eat the_ _gillyweed_ _and be ok,_ he pleaded silently. 

She must have done it because, as suddenly as she had hindered his progress to shore, she was kicking with him. They shot forward and quickly began moving in sync. He felt his webbed fingers begin to change and sawed half the gillyweed with his front teeth. He shoved one piece between his lips and chewed up the other. 

They swam rapidly back even gaining enough water that he could see Cedric and Cho ahead of them. He kept an eye on Little Fleur as they approached the shallows. _She looks so pale! I think she’d be better off waking up and eating the damn_ _gillyweed_ _!_

Once they hit the furthest post of the dock, Harry shrugged out of the leather contraption that kept him tied to Daphne. He used a strong kick from his webbed feet to propel himself forward with Little Fleur. She flew up out of the water and landed on the dock. 

Despite the awful smothering sensation of the gillyweed out of the water, he suffered until he heard her spit and choke in the cold air. With relief, he sank back into the shallow water. Face to face with Daphne, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight.

* * *

“He’s a hero, you know,” Hermione whispered. “Harry won’t let anything bad happen to your sister. Not while he’s there to prevent it.” His sweet friend was the only one that had managed to sooth his fellow champion. As they sprung forth from the water a few minutes before, Viktor had sucked in a relieved breath and realized that he was first. 

He wondered what had kept Harry as he transitioned from the muddled conflict of instincts and humanity. He jolted in surprise at the realization that the frigid wind was joined by a desperate wail. Hermione woke in his grasp, and he carried her to the dock. There Fleur Delacour cursed and screamed for her sister. 

The buffoon, Bagman, tried to calm her, “Your sister will be fine. The song was merely hyperbolically…. it was only an exaggeration!”

“You fool!” she shoved him away. “Did you learn nothing of Veela? We are creatures of fire and sun! Zose were nearly doused in me with such short time under zee awful water!”

He pitied her as she choked and sobbed. “Maman! Why would you allow zuch to happen?” 

His attention was split between her distress and the Hogwarts healer that cared for her and warmed Hermione. It was only as his friend stepped away from her mediwitch to comfort the other girl that he began to focus. 

She whispered nonsense about trolls and cerebus. She finger combed the older girl’s hair and told her something of basilisks. _Why would such fairy tales sooth her? And why are these negligent fools not forming a party to retrieve the little girl? With time expired, why are they not retrieving all? And where is Harry?_

He considered transfiguring himself to go and get the child but knew how much effort it had taken to control his aggression the last time. _I am too tired to risk it. I might hurt the girl if I try to fetch her._ He cursed and wished for some of Harry’s gillyweed. 

Off to the side, he saw a pinched and worried looking couple watching the still water. The woman looked much like Daphne, and he realized that they were her family. _Perhaps it is this that will end the tournament revival. Families will not happily see their children put at risk without being entered._

The still water broke around Cedric and his pretty Yule date. She sputtered the moment the air struck her face, but he only stood and gasped within his bubblehead. Viktor scrambled to help him. He pulled the girl further to shore and handed her off to a redheaded boy. His primary focus was his blue faced friend. Even as he burst the air bubble around his head, he shouted for help.

He had to half carry Cedric to the tent for care. Along the dock, Hermione and Fleur sobbed in distress as the water stilled again. The couple at the far end of the dock began arguing with Bagman. He ignored the drama until he had handed his fellow champion off to the mediwitch. 

Just as he reconsidered using his shark form to track Harry in the water, he saw ripples in the water. He looked around and saw that no one else noticed the disturbance. He snatched up a blanket and cast a warming spell on it as he ran. 

A little girl launched from the water toward the dock. Triumphantly, Viktor caught the child in his blanket and wrapped her up even as she spat gillyweed and water onto the dock. He looked past her and saw Harry sink back beneath the surface.

He quickly passed the child to her sister and drew Hermione into his arms. He pointed out to her and several others that Harry and Daphne were just off the dock. He heard many voices behind him discuss the girl, the risks and the task. 

He tuned them out. Instead, he focused on the water. Finally, the gillyweed wore off, and the couple emerged from the water still wrapped in each other’s arms. He cut his eyes down to his pretty friend’s face and cursed himself for a fool at the sight of the tears streaming from her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that, in the book, Hermione and Ron insisted that Headmaster Dumbledore would never allow harm to come to the hostages. However, none of the adults had managed to calm Fleur, a generally level headed and highly intelligent witch. In light of her reaction, it seems more likely that Ron and Hermione had too much confidence in the Headmaster.
> 
> Instead of writing today, I got the fun of rescuing my mom with a flat tire... So you guys get this chapter a day early, and I hope I'll get to focus on writing tomorrow.  
> Hope you have a great weekend!


	12. Chapter 12

The Boy-Who-Lived looked small and vulnerable especially next to his fellow champion. Cyrus scanned the small reception room for other familiar faces and cringed at a few of the ones he saw. _What the devil is Umbridge doing here?_ He kept his sneer on the inside but made up his mind to keep their interaction short.

“Cyrus, dear, there’s Daphne.” his wife steered him gently through the mix of people. They courteously greeted a few other members of their circle with nods and smiles. Most real friends knew better than to keep them from their daughter after her day.

“Head Greengrass,” Ludo Bagman’s voice grated even more than usual. “I wanted to express my gratitude for your willingness to have Daphne be a part of the tournament.”

He suppressed his cold rage at the man’s nerve and simply replied, “It seems that your letter understated the level of involvement needed by my heir. Should you need further support from House Greengrass for this or any other ordeal, be prepared for heavy scrutiny.”

The man sputtered out useless apologies before his dear Laurel interrupted, “I’m sure you understand our desire to speak to our daughter now that she is out of the hospital wing?”

They gave him no time to reply and weaved on through the crush. _The fact that our Daphne was honest with us about the details of the task will give him no absolution._ He put the infuriating man from his mind as he came face to face with both of his daughters clustered together with Harry Potter and Viktor Krum.

“I still think that partial transfiguration that you did was brilliant. The fact that you and Harry were the only ones with solutions that didn’t land you in the Hospital Wing should have earned some additional points even if everyone returned outside of the hour,” Astoria stopped her argument at the sight of him. “Dad! Mum!” Forsaking all dignity, she flung herself at them for a hug. 

Daphne laughed lightly and stepped forward too. When he pressed a kiss to her cheek, he was relieved to see that her earlier pallor had faded. “Hello, my dears,” he greeted.

When manners dictated that they separate, Daphne started the introductions. “Father, Mother,” she smiled proudly. “It is my honor to introduce you to Harry Potter, Heir to House Potter. Harry, these are my parents: Cyrus Greengrass, Head of House Greengrass and Laurel Greengrass.”

The boy bowed politely over Laurel’s hand, and he took another moment to survey him. _I can’t quite bring the varying images together. It’s one thing to know that the person credited with ending the war was only a child. It’s quite another to realize that, even after all these years, he’s not even as tall as my Daphne._ He held out his hand to shake.

“Head Greengrass, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said softly. He seemed to relax slightly only when his daughter once again took his arm.

“I hope you’ll call me Cyrus,” he said simply. “Unless you prefer that I call you Heir Potter in kind?” He smiled in hopes that the boy might relax a bit more. _I remember how unpleasant Laurel’s father was. This is my first chance to keep my promise to myself to be different._

His daughter’s boyfriend returned his smile, “No, sir. I much prefer to be called Harry.”

“Good,” he nodded approvingly. “I have been hearing great things about your defense lessons from Astoria. I appreciate that you’ve taken the time.”

The young man shrugged uncomfortably, “I just thought we could all benefit from a little practice.”

“Quite so,” he smiled dotingly at his youngest daughter. “I hope you’ll continue to work with her. Perhaps, she’ll retake the dueling master’s title for Britain one day.” When she rolled her eyes at his teasing, he turned his attention to their other companions.

Daphne dutifully introduced them. “Father, these are our friends Viktor Krum of Bulgaria and Hermione Granger.”

The curly haired muggle born smiled up at him as he bowed politely over her hand. Oddly, she cut a glance to Daphne that lingered when their eyes met. Before he could think too much of it, Krum stretched out his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you both. Mr. Krum, I’ve followed your career as a seeker with much interest. Your catch at the World Cup was quite impressive.”

“Thank you,” Viktor tilted his head modestly. “I have quite enjoyed working with Green publishing firm during tournament. Your team is most courteous and professional.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” he looked to Daphne with a smile. “I credit my daughter with the successful project there. Afterall, books and our publishing house are her greatest interest.”

When Krum grinned, Cyrus was struck by how very young he was. “Perhaps that tells why Hermione and Daphne are such good friends?” He glanced fondly at the pretty girl beside him, and she flushed at the attention.

It was Harry that laughed at his comment, “If anyone ever doubted that Daphne and Hermione came together over a love of books and learning, they clearly don’t know either of them.” 

His daughter blushed and elbowed him, but her gaze, once again, caught the other girl’s and clung. The other girl simply said, “Books and cleverness are not the most important things in the grand view of the world.”

His green eyes widened in humor, “Surely we all know the benefits of your brilliance by now?”

Cyrus laughed aloud at the whole exchange, “It has been too many years since I spent time deciphering the code of young friends. Perhaps the three of you will decide on a more subtle code that sounds more like normal conversation?”

“Don’t include me in that one, Father,” Daphne laughed. “I think it will take me quite a bit more time to know everything Harry and Hermione have been up to since first year.”

He chuckled at that but filed the whole interaction away for review later. He spent too much time away from his daughter to dismiss any chance to learn more about her life at Hogwarts. With relief, he let Laurel carry the conversation for a few moments as he enjoyed his girls’ happiness and observed them all.

* * *

Hermione walked along the corridor with Viktor. When she shuffled her feet and stumbled in exhaustion, he caught her arm and pulled it through his. “Are you alright, Hermione?” he asked her gently.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Just tired…” She forced herself to focus on him. “I’m sorry that you didn’t get much time with your mum. International portkey travel must be quite exhausting.”

“I will have time with her tomorrow,” he reassured her. “She has expressed interest in meeting Arithmancy teacher. Would you be willing to make introduction?”

The unexpected honor brought a smile to her face. Suddenly more alert, she declared, “I would be delighted!” She hugged his arm to her, “Do you think that she would like to meet some of my classmates as well?”

“I think she would enjoy it,” he stopped walking to glance at her fondly. “She looks forward to meeting you, for certain.”

She flushed a little at his attention. “Viktor,” she turned to him. “Thank you… for being my friend… I, uh,” she struggled for the right words. “I’ve never had many friends, and I feel lucky to have gotten to know you.”

“I am lucky to know you as well,” he rumbled into her ear. She was surprised by how close they stood. Her heartbeat quickened with nervousness, and she tried to convince herself that nothing was different.

“I, uh,” she stammered, grasping for anything to say. He leaned in to her, and his eyelids drifted closed. In a panic, she turned her head away causing his lips to collide with her cheekbone.

He yanked back from her and gaped a moment. “Hermione,” his hand fell away from her, and he stepped back from her. “Is reason that you turn from me that you wish to be with Harry?”

“Be with Harry?” she desperately sought for clarity. “Viktor, I’ve only ever asked to be your friend. I have tried to be clear about it. I’m sorry if you’ve gotten confused, but that wasn’t my desire for either of us.”

He pulled himself up to his full height and drew his eyebrows together. He settled one of his large hands on her shoulder and squeezed firmly. In his other hand, she spied him drawing his wand. 

Her breath quickened, and she felt tendrils of panic chill her fingers. She fumbled in her sleeve for her own wand. Her lips trembled as she tried to understand the threat. Her heart slammed behind her sternum. _What could he be doing?_

To her dismay, her wand fell to the floor with a clatter. As it rolled, he took aim over her shoulder and fired, “Stupefy!”

She ducked under his arm and snatched her wand. Taking a dueling stance, she held her wand out and stood at an angle from him. “Viktor?” she whispered as she surveyed the empty hallway. “What were you aiming for?”

He lowered his wand and nodded toward the floor. “Beetle, on the wall, looked like same one that was in your hair earlier.” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a half piece of parchment and his fountain pen. With a frown, he drew a knut from his other pocket and transfigured it into a small table.

As he folded the parchment into an envelope, she levitated the little bug onto the table for a closer look. “Are you certain it’s the same beetle?” she scrutinized it closely.

“Am not certain, but it could be,” he carefully drew a series of runes along the seams of his containment. “Is very odd, especially in such cold, yes?”

She nodded hesitantly, “I’m no entomologist, but it does seem strange.” She thought about crushing it but quickly changed her mind. _Are you how Skeeter gets her scoops? How many of you does she have flitting about?_ “Do you think she’s a transfigured recording crystal? Like what your grandfather described?”

He shrugged, “Only one way to be certain.” He scooped the shiny little creature into his envelope and sealed it with a sticking charm. “If is recorder, it will turn back in a few days. Whatever jar you put it in, make sure you copy runes from envelope or it might record.”

She eyed it speculatively, “What if I just crush it? What would happen?”

“You will never know if is recorder,” he said simply.

She nodded briskly and tucked into her robe pocket. “Thank you,” she breathed out in a measure sigh. “I wish I didn’t have to worry about such things.”

“You are friends with two famous wizards,” he smirked a little the way he always did when he joked about his celebrity. “Such attention is price you pay for our company.”

She laughed at his deliberately egotistical comment, “It’s lucky that I know you’re teasing. Another witch might hex you for saying something like that.”

“If she use wand loop in her robe as you do, I will have no issue escaping,” he picked up her free hand and tucked it back into his elbow.

She jabbed him sharply in the ribs and twirled toward the space behind them. “Finite Incantatum!” she called. His table turned back to a knut on the floor. She summoned it and presented it to him with a flourish. “Perhaps I’m no quick draw, but I can manage well enough once I’ve got a grasp on my wand.”

His hearty laugh echoed behind them. “Quite true,” he descended into a thoughtful look. After they ascended the tricky staircase before them, he turned back to her at the landing. “Would you be willing to practice wand work with me? I would not like to see you harmed because you did not have wand out.”

His offer made her brave enough to ask, “Then you’re still willing to be my friend, even though I only want to be friends?”

“You are not first witch that did not return my regard,” he shrugged. “If friendship is all that we will have, I will treasure. As I am sure that you treasure from Harry…”

She blushed a little but made no effort to change his misunderstanding. As they walked the rest of the way to the Gryffindor common room, they discussed their plans for the next day. When they parted at the portrait, he bowed over her hand but made no effort to kiss her knuckles.

* * *

The air in the glass jar was stale and warm. She could hear her little feet skittle on the slick surface, but the world outside her prison was deafeningly silent. When Rita had first woken up, she saw the distorted blur of Gryffindor colors and the dim shadows of early morning.

 _What sort of hell have I woken in?_ She tried to orient herself. _I remember following the little_ _mudblood_ _and her fool…_ Her memories came back slowly but clearly. _I’ve got the perfect story, if I can only get out of here!_ She flung herself upwards optimistically but slid back down the sides of the glass.

After a few more useless attempts, she eyed the lid covering the top of the jar. _How much air do I have?_ She decided to stop flailing. _Afterall, I can out think some teenage girl. She’s just a sentimental child._ She forced her fears to the back of mind and waited.

Slowly, the sun began to light up the room, and girls rose to move around. Noise should have echoed into her confinement, but she heard nothing beyond the glass. _Is she using a silencing spell of some sort on the jar itself?_ She drew her magic to her. While she knew better than to try and transform while trapped, she had previously had a few lucky moments of wandless magic while in her animagus form. 

She sent out a wave with all the power she could muster. It flowed through the glass and dissipated uselessly. She fell back against the leaves in her prison in exhaustion. Just as she saw a large distorted hand reach for her, she fainted.

When she woke again, there were peony petals in her cage. _Little bitch! Does she think to keep me as a pet?_ Despite her resentment, she knew she could not refuse food. She let her beetle’s instincts rise within her and chewed away at the fresh flower.

It seemed less time had passed than she assumed. The girls, still eerily silent, came back from what must have been a bath. One of them got close enough to recognize, _Greengrass’s niece?_ She felt a new fear rise in her. _I’ve been assuming that all I need to do is escape, but what if that little wretch actually knows my secret?_

She quickly began to plan, _She’ll have to take the lid off to feed me. I’ll fake another faint and jump out. Then, once I’m me again, I’ll_ _obliviate_ _her mind to mush. She can join that idiot Lockhart and the drooling_ _Longbottoms_ _. I’ll even write a few articles full of fake sympathy and destroy her reputation for cleverness. That way, everyone will suspect some magical accident caused by her ego._

She spotted another girl hovering near her cage. The dark hair and olive skin gave her away as the Patil girl. She scavenged her mind for any memory of Indian perspectives on life or reverence for beetles. Instead of hope, she found the realization that she was dependent on the pity of a group of teenage girls for her survival. Loathing and poisonous terror filled her. She stilled and determined to stay alert, watchful for any chance to escape her prison and exact vengeance.

* * *

Albus eyed his correspondence with exhaustion. Despite the help from Dobby, he struggled to stay ahead of the goings on at both the Wizengamot and the ICW. The machinations from Fudge and Umbridge to bring Hogwarts further under Ministry control took far too much of his attention. _I’m just grateful the Malfoy’s faction on the Board of Governors have not pressed their own influence._ He might have thought that Fudge was acting at Malfoy’s behest, but Lucius had made no moves to capitalize on the opportunity that Skeeter’s exposes had created.

He sank into the chair behind his desk. _At least with the second task behind us, there will be a bit less chaos around here._ He let his head drop back in a moment of indulgence, before he started trying to prioritize the piles before him. _Minutes from the last Board meeting and requests for the next agenda…_ He shook his head, “That will put me straight to sleep after the last few days.”

He was reaching toward the large stack of personal mail when Dobby popped in. “Headmastery Mugwump, sir,” he said respectfully. “Yous has meeting with Professor McGonagall, and yous has not eaten today.”

He smiled wearily at the elf that had become such a help to him the past few months. “Thank you, Dobby. Would you please make us a tray and set the gargoyle to automatically admit Minerva?”

“Yes, Headmastery, sir,” he disappeared from sight, and Albus stared for a moment at the space he had left.

He shook his head to release the fog from his mind and turned back to the large stack of mail. Pulling it toward him, he realized that the reason for its towering height was a particularly thick envelope at the bottom of the stack. Intrigued, he opened it and pulled out a mass of parchment bound with a sticking charm. The note that rested atop it was short.

> Arbour Green has declined to publish this work, but Ms. Skeeter will find someone else eventually. Forewarned is forearmed.
> 
> Hector Herald

His eyes widened in surprise. _I remember Hector as a stalwart young Hufflepuff. If Rita threatened him as she tends to do others, then she has overplayed her hand._ He set aside the letter and sighed heavily at the title page before him. **The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore**

To his relief, the door to his office opened and gave him an excuse to avoid opening the manuscript. “Minerva,” he stood to greet her. “How has your day been?”

“A bit more interesting than I would have liked, Albus,” she perched stiffly in her usual chair. “Millicent Bulstrode stole an heirloom broach from Ella Vane and attempted to hide it in Sarah Jones’ bag while they passed in the hall. I caught her in the midst of her spell and added to her collection of detentions as well as removed 100 house points for theft.”

He pinched the bridge of nose to try and ease the ache in his head. “I assume she intended to incite trouble for Miss Jones with this?”

“And probably Heiress Greengrass as well. Miss Jones is officially under sponsorship with their house,” she frowned. “It’s only her good luck that Bulstrode is more ambitious than cunning.” Dobby appeared holding a tray laden with food and tea. He set the tray between them and waited politely. 

“Thank you, Dobby,” he told him sincerely. “Please consider your day complete. You might still have time to visit a few friends before curfew, if you wish.”

Minerva smiled slightly as Dobby disappeared, “I’ve long wondered why you didn’t get an assistant. Now that I see how busy you still are with Dobby’s help, I think you could do with two.”

He poured them both tea and passed her a cup. “I have found Dobby to be quite helpful, but I don’t think I could manage a human assistant. Anyone that would be interested would be a former student. It would be too easy to fall back into those roles.”

The smell of food made his mouth water, and he quickly plated a selection of the treats Dobby had brought them. Minerva declined her own plate, “Have you heard anything more about the Ministry audit?”

He chewed his sandwich before replying. “There’s been nothing from Cornelious since before the second task. I think that Barty’s death, and his decision to allow Dolores Umbridge to take on his role, has left the Minister rather busy.” 

“Do you think that the effort will fade?” she asked optimistically.

“I fear it’s only a temporary reprieve,” he told her honestly. “It will only take another scandal from Ms. Skeeter to whip up the frenzy again.” He glanced back toward the hulking manuscript on his desk. “I don’t think I like the silence that we’ve had from her since the task.”

“Well, I shall continue to prepare for an eventual audit,” she stated unhappily.

He nodded, grateful as always for her efficiency. “What else is going on around the school?” As she began to outline the ups and downs of students and staff, Albus found himself relaxing into his favorite job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this transitional chapter reads easier than it wrote. *fingers crossed* Chapter 13 & 14 contain some of the scenes that first inspired me to turn this into a story, but I had to get everyone to their places and fill in a few gaps before those scenes would make sense.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14 is written, but I am in the path of two stupid hurricanes. Wednesday's update may be delayed.

Ron was walking through the secret passage with the thought of cutting through Hermione’s study. It was the fastest way he knew of to get to where he was going and his best chance of avoiding his brothers. _I swear, if they start in on me again, I_ ’ _ll set Ginny on them! After what they pulled yesterday, I don_ ’ _t even care what it costs me!_

About three paces from the intersection that he wanted, Ron stopped. Harry was a great wizard, but he could be a creature of habit. _He always starts a chess game with the same move. I better check this passage to see if he left any alarms up last time he came through._ He was rewarded for his caution when he found a combination alert and privacy charm that the twins had designed. He disengaged it, and then put it back in place after he passed the boundary.

He walked past the passage intersection and stepped toward the quiet hall. It was only once he had passed the stone archway that he realized that something was very wrong. He could hear girlish whispers and murmurs from the study room. At first he thought to sneak away, but he caught a whimper that put him on alert.

He rushed forward with his wand at the ready. “Oi!” he cried while bursting through the secret passage. The sight of Hermione and Daphne clinched in each other’s arms had him reacting before he thought. “Stupefy! Incarcerous!” He shouted his spells as though volume would give them extra power. 

Hermione toppled to the floor, unconscious. Daphne’s arms locked at her sides as she sent him a vicious glare from the sofa. “What do you think you’re doing?” she blurted out.

Angrily, he stomped over to her. “Me? What any good friend would do!” He carefully levitated Hermione up the couch but kept his eyes on the bound girl. “What have you done to her, you treacherous snake?” She struggled against her bonds and glared at him. _I hope she’s not mastered_ _wandless_ _magic… Who knows what she’ll do to me!_ He kept his wand up and tried to present a narrow target like Bill had always showed him.

She sucked in a breath and called out, “Dobby! Winky!” He froze in shock. _Surely, she doesn’t have those two on her side._ When both house elves popped into the room, his shock broke. He started to cast on her again, but she only said. “Dobby, get Harry!”

The elf popped away and left him with a furious Winky hovering over her favorite human. “Whats wrong with Missy Hermione?” she squeaked worriedly.

He shot a silencing charm at Daphne and quickly moved toward them. “I’m not sure, Winky.” He waved a hand frantically at the bound blond. “She’s done something to her, but I’m not sure what.” 

“I didn’t do anything to Hermione!” She shouted at him, and he cursed his aim. “You’re the one that stunned her!”

When Winky turned her wide eyes to him, he knew he had to talk fast. _A half trained wizard is no match for a protective house elf!_ “Don’t listen to her Winky! I know she did something to Hermione! Hermione would never betray Harry! Never!”

To his shock, his friend’s traitorous girlfriend suddenly relaxed. “You’re right that she would never betray Harry. And neither would I.” Winky’s ears drooped in confusion, and she looked back and forth between them.

Ron shouted at her, “I caught you grabbing hold of her! I know you did something to her! What did you do?”

They both startled as Dobby popped back into the room with Harry holding his hand. Ron stepped forward to greet his best mate but stumbled back again as he was disarmed. Daphne’s bonds fell away, and she immediately revived Hermione. 

Ron stepped to put the wall at his back as he realized that his situation had turned. _She wouldn’t have called for Harry if she didn’t have him confounded too… Bloody idiot, Ron! Now you’ve no wand and no defenses!_ He tried to reason with his friend, “Harry, mate, I don’t know what she’s done to you, but you have to listen to me.”

To his consternation, his friend simply walked over to a chair and sat down. “No one’s done anything to me, Ron.” He made a show of putting both their wands on the little center table and sitting back. He arched a brow at Daphne whose wand joined theirs with a sigh.

Hermione soothed Winky, and he felt a twinge of guilt at having upset the little elf. “I’m alright, really. Ron would never purposely hurt me.”

He sighed in relief and carefully approached. “I’m glad you know that Hermione. You aren’t hurt? I didn’t mean for you to hit the floor when I stunned you.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m fine Ron. Come and sit down.” She looked oddly guilty when she told him, “I think we’re past due for a talk.” The last of his anger faded into confusion, and he reluctantly left the safety of the wall at his back to join them. He settled into the squishy chair opposite Harry. 

Dobby looked to his friend, “If Master Harry has no more need, Dobby should returns to his work for Mugwump.” He chewed his lip nervously at first. Then, he looked over to Winky and smiled at her. “Yous has plenty of helps, I think.”

As though nothing else had happened, Harry held out his arms for a hug. The elf embraced first him, then Hermione, then Daphne. He patted Winky on the hand where she huddled between the two girls, and then he was gone.

“Ron,” Hermione started, “why did you stun me?” 

Somehow, her question made him feel guilty and foolish, but he answered anyway. “I actually meant to stun her,” he admitted with a nod in Daphne’s direction. “I guess, as close together as you two were...” His cheeks flushed, and he stared at their wands all on the table.

“He’s convinced that I’ve confounded you,” the blond looked from Hermione to Harry. “Probably convinced I’ve enchanted you both.”

He started to nod but shrank in his seat when his two best friends avoided his eyes. “Ron,” Harry started, “Daphne and Hermione are together. I’ve only made it seem like Daphne and I were dating to make it easier on them.”

He barely realized that his mouth flopped open until Hermione reached forward and pressed upward on his jaw. “I know that this seems a shock to you, but Daphne and I have been together for months. When Harry needed a Yule date, well… it seemed like a simple solution.”

He tried to figure out how to respond. A part of him wanted to be angry but knew that he had alienated his two best friends with his idiocy earlier. _Don’t stick your foot it in again, Ron. You’ll not like the results._ As he scrambled for something to say that would keep them talking, he heard words escaping his mouth without check. “Do you mean all that stuff about not kissing and telling was just a way to keep from admitting I got my first kiss before you did?”

* * *

His Firebolt sailed smoothly into his hand as Harry stepped out from the Quidditch locker rooms. He waved to Colin and let Dennis direct him to his spot in the group photo. “Afternoon, all,” he greeted while taking his place next to Fleur.

“Afternoon, Harry,” Cedric smirked at him. “I used to think I was glad to be have grown so much my fifth year, but now I see a few benefits of being shorter than the rest of the blokes.”

He rolled his eyes in mock irritation at the teasing, “Well, we all know that I like girls that are taller than me, but I’d be a fool to disrespect Daphne by making eyes at Fleur.”

“Oui, that would be most foolish,” Fleur chuckled. “We ladies must band together after all.”

“Face me!” Colin called out for their attention. “Smile and wave!”

As he took their group photos, the four of them continued to joke and tease. Each champion was careful to hold their brooms in a way that kept the maker’s name visible. Harry felt odd about being sponsored by Firebolt, but he tried to assure himself that he had earned it through his own actions. Sometimes it helped.

Once Collin declared them done with pictures, they scattered briefly so that the racing course could be photographed without them. He walked over to where Daphne, Hermione, Tracey and Ron stood together. While the girls chatted amiably, his red haired friend angled himself stiffly at the edge of the group. He had been awkward around Hermione and Daphne since finding out their secret the day before. 

“Ron,” he tried to distract him. “Have you taken a look at Cedric’s Cleansweep Eleven? His dad got it for him for his birthday.”

“An Eleven? They only came out last week!” he excitedly began to recite the properties and features of the broom. Harry laughed at the incredulous looks he got from the girls for his rote regurgitation of the broom’s specifications.

“How do you remember all of that but can’t keep the goblin war battles in your head long enough to pass an exam?” Hermione asked him.

“Oh, all those battles are useless! It happened ages ago!” He sputtered out. “The current broom models? Now that’s something I might need to know if I want to be able to pick one out.”

Daphne shook her head at them, “Well, you’ll get a chance to compare them all today.” She subtly brushed her hand against Hermione’s as she stepped around her. Harry tried to be casual about her closeness when she slid her arm around his waist and bent her knees slightly. “I think Colin wants another photo, dear.”

He forced a smile at his housemate and tilted his head towards hers. With their closeness, he whispered, “Have I ever told you how phony I feel with all this?” She went stiff next to him, and he worried that he offended her. Just as the camera flashed, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Sorry, I know that you know how I feel about the attention.”

She relaxed into him a little, “You’re building toward your goals, Harry. There’s nothing fake about it.”

Colin moved on to take a few other pictures, and Daphne stepped away from him. “I guess you’ll be glad if I manage to grow a bit more this year?” he quipped as she straightened back to her full height. 

She laughed lightly, “I’ll be tempted to add SkeleGrow to your tea for a few weeks so that I won’t have to stoop for the award ceremony pictures!”

“Viktor! We’re betrayed!” Cedric slung his arm around Harry’s shoulders belying his words. “Our publisher has already decided the winner!”

“Dah, Cedric,” Viktor chuckled at them. “We should have made more effort at charming her. Perhaps that would have been the difference.”

Daphne blushed prettily, “I’ve never pretended to lack bias.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Nor have any of the actual judges.” Harry laughed at her words. Before they could continue their jokes and teasing, Penelope called out for them to join her. 

Once the four champions stood at the starting line, he looked out toward the Quidditch stands at their fellow classmates. _Hogwarts always loves a bit of competition._ He mimicked Cedric’s smile and waved toward their audience. He mounted his broom just as his fellows did. 

Ron stepped forward with a grin, “Alright! As much as we all would have loved to send you after a snitch, this will be the next best thing! The four of you will fly down the straight, under the green post, through the goal hoop, pull your flag by color from the rising platform and chase back through to cross the finish. The race will start on my signal - Take your marks!” Each of them shifted slightly to give each other room, “Get set!” Harry adjusted his grip on his broom handle, “And Go!”

The four of them shot from the line simultaneously. The straight away tested the broom more than the rider, and they approached the first obstacle together. Harry flicked his gaze to Fleur on his left and Cedric on his right. _We’re bunched too close to take this at the same time._ To avoid a crash, he angled sharply down and flew under his fellow flyers as well as the post. 

The wind pressed his glasses into his face as he angled back up to level out. The extra steep dive allowed Cedric and Fleur to pull ahead of him, but he quickly regained that ground. He pulled up even with his schoolmates as they approached the single quidditch hoop left up for the race course. 

Viktor, out of his sight, flew down from overhead and cut off the lead racers. Cedric pulled right to avoid him, but Fleur flew straight at him. Something convinced him to veer off her path, and she made it through the hoop first. 

Harry laughed at the sheer joy of their speed and forced his broom forward into the trail she blazed. He narrowly avoided Cedric, but Viktor kept flying. The side of the hoop grazed his arm as they flew through it together.

The rising platform over the lake floated higher than the top of the whomping willow. Cedric and Harry knew to avoid the dangerous tree, but their counterparts flew straight at it as the shortest path to their goal. 

He lost sight of everyone when he angled out and upward away from the tree. The platform rose higher as they approached, and he set an intercept course for his red flag. He shot forward at high speed and snatched it. 

He dove toward the water to avoid Cedric and raced for the finish line. Past the Whomping Willow, he shouted when a bludger flew for him. He spun and swerved to avoid it, but it banked and came back for him. 

He cursed and put on a burst of speed. When it sped up, he forced himself into a spin. Before it caught him again, a flash came from behind him. The bludger exploded just as Harry passed the finish line with Cedric beside him. Fleur and Viktor zoomed in right behind them.

“Bloody Hell!” Ron shouted out, “That was an amazing shot!” He rushed over along with several others to where the racers were standing to catch their breath. He shook Fleur’s hand, “You’ve got amazing aim!”

She shrugged and used her fingers to comb willow leaves from her hair. “We are tested for accuracy as part of Defense exams each year.” She looked around at them, “Is not the same here?”

Harry missed Ron’s answer as Hermione flung herself on him a hug before stepping aside for Daphne to do the same. “Where did that thing come from? There wasn’t supposed to be anything like that in the race!”

He shook himself to clear his head, “I didn’t see anything until it was on me. Did anyone else see anything?”

Murmurs and denials rumbled through the crowd, and the mystery became the topic of the evening. His tie with Cedric became a footnote to the story and was quickly forgotten.

* * *

Harry let the last of the first years pass him in the corridor before he entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. “Professor Moody?” he called hesitantly. Something felt off about his defense instructor, but he dismissed his sense of foreboding around the man as too many bad prior experiences. He stepped further into the room and wondered if he should knock on the adjoining office door. 

“Constant Vigilance!” roared into his ears. Harry flung himself behind a desk and searched for the source of the words. “Something I can help you with, Mr. Potter?” Again the words came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. 

Somewhat reassured by the question, he stepped back upright but kept the corner walls at his back. “How are you doing that?” he asked hoping to make him speak again. _This might be an interesting way to get the twins back next time they prank me, but I’ll need to know the counter to be sure._

Instead of an answer, the room exploded into sparks and lights. Harry flinched and raised a shield charm. Laughter echoed around the room with a maniacal edge. “Well done, Mr. Potter,” Moody said from behind his desk. “Of course, I could have had you the moment you came into the room, but you adapted eventually.”

He smiled tensely at his teacher. “Well, maybe now I’ll think before barging into a classroom?” he ventured with an awkward shrug. 

“I should hope so,” he asserted before shuffling down from the dais to face him. “Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Potter?”

“I, uh,” he collected his thoughts. “I wanted to ask about aiming drills, sir.”

“That’s generally a first year exercise, and one I don’t see you needing,” he dismissed.

“Thanks, Professor,” he flushed at the compliment. “I was thinking more for some of my classmates.” He leaned against one of the desks. “You see, sir, Professor Quirrel never practiced aiming drills with us.” _Probably because Voldemort didn’t want us able to defend ourselves._

“I’m guessing that Lockhart didn’t review it with you in your second year?” he asked the question but plainly knew the answer by the way he said his predecessor’s name.

He nodded anyway, “And based on what I’ve seen from Astoria and Colin, he didn’t really teach it to the first years either.”

“All the spells ever invented won’t help a wizard that can’t hit his enemy,” Moody asserted. Just as Harry began to hope that his professor would help, the man dashed them. “A shame and a pity, is what it is,” he said. “But I’ve already had a stern talking to from the Deputy Headmistress about deviating from the curriculum. I can make sure that the second years get a quick review and the first years a solid foundation, but anything beyond that…” He shook his head mournfully.

His stomach sank in disappointment, but he pretended to understand. “Alright, Professor. I’m sure the younger students will benefit from it.” He started to turn away.

“Wait,” his professor stopped him. He froze and looked back at the man’s scarred and disfigured face. “Want me to show you that modified sonorous before you go?”

He smiled weakly, “Sure, professor. Thanks.”

* * *

Tracey ducked into an alcove to avoid the stampede of first years leaving the defense classroom. When they cleared, she moved to step back into the hall but stopped suddenly. _What’s Harry doing here? Daphne said she was meeting him to study._ She leaned back into the shadows and listened. Nothing about Harry’s manner indicated that he had another engagement. 

“Constant Vigilance!” She jumped at the shout and quickly drew her wand. Her heartbeat rushed in her ears, but she heard enough to know that her friend was in no real danger. _As if I would be able to rescue Harry Potter!_ She scoffed at herself.

Rather than walking on, she leaned back into the alcove and let her thoughts drift. She found herself accounting for all the times that Daphne had disappeared without explanation. _I’m being silly. She’s just the first of us to get a boyfriend; that’s all._ But her thoughts kept bubbling up. 

_Harry was in the Great Hall for almost an hour when she showed up for dinner last week. Then there was the time she said she went off to meet Harry but I saw him in the hall right after…_ She shook her head violently, trying to shake away her thoughts. _This is my best friend! She would never play anyone false. She would certainly never do something as mad as cheat on Harry Bloody Potter!_ She waited for The Boy Who Lived to pass by her hiding spot and then moved to walk the opposite direction. 

“Where are you headed, Miss Davis?” Professor Moody’s sudden appearance in the doorway made her flinch.

“On,” she drew in a steadying breath. “On my way to my common room, Professor.”

“Really?” he stepped toward her and leaned close. “On your way to the common room, in an empty hall, with your wand drawn?”

Her chest heaved with labored breathing, “I,” she scrounged for calm. “I, uh, heard something, sir. It startled me.”

His false eye roved over her, and she wondered what all he could see. “Perhaps you should be more cautious,” he chuckled. “If you hear a real threat, waving your wand around won’t help you.” He moved into her space, and she backed up reflexively. He responded with a full-throated laugh that echoed along the corridor. “Slither on your way, my fellow snake. You don’t want to be late for dinner.”

“Yes, Professor,” she jumped backward and sideways. Before she could rethink her instincts, she had ran halfway to the Slytherin common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on Ron's character in this story: 14 year olds are generally impetuous, rash and emotional. Ron is even more so as a young man that feels like there's no positive way for him to stand out. He loves his family and his friends, but he also feels stifled by his roles as son, brother, and sidekick. (The fact that JK never gave him any real growth beyond that in 7 books is on her.) I've read some truly brilliant fics with Ron bashing, but I actually wanted to do something different with him. He hasn't been & still won't be a major part of the story, but it's hard to write a Harry Potter fic without addressing him in some way.
> 
> A note on Moody-Crouch: Anyone held captive by their own family for over a decade is bound to be erratic. If that person was already damaged and alienated enough to turn on his parents and join a cult, well... Even when pretending to be normal, they won't be a comfortable person to be around. Fortunately for him, human's have a bad habit of ignoring their instincts.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On one busy day in Hogwarts, secrets are revealed.

Hermione eyed her little beetle in the silenced jar. After a week, the little creature remained a bug, and she decided she would take it with her to meet Viktor after classes. She gently held the rose bud that Neville had gotten for her and used a switching spell to trade it for the half eaten peony in the jar. Next, she swapped out the air for fresh air from her dorm room and carefully conjured two drops of water on the side of the glass.

 _If nothing else, keeping this thing alive has given me plenty of practice on detailed transfiguration._ Out of respect for Parvati, she had found ways to keep the lid on the jar at all times. She set an impervious charm on the glass and dropped the jar in her book bag. With only thirty minutes left before afternoon classes, she rushed out of the Gryffindor tower and hurried down to lunch.

She had just enough time to grab something to eat when she approached the Great Hall. The doors were held open for passing students, and she rushed through angling toward her table. She saw a flash of green and black out of the corner of her eye.

Suddenly, she went flying backwards. Her butt slammed into the stone floor, and pained flared through her. She failed to shout as her breath knocked from her lungs. Her bag flew back behind her and slid under the table.

“Oh, Milicent,” Pucey cooed. “How clumsy of me! Are you alright?”

Harry crouched before her, and she lost sight of the petty Slytherins. “Are you hurt, Hermione?”

The sharp pains faded into aches as she caught her breath. She took in the scene at the Gryffindor table. Neville gripped Ginny’s forearm tightly. Ron’s face flushed furiously behind his cold eyed brothers. _Get up, Hermione. This isn’t worth anyone getting hurt or in trouble._

She blinked back her welling tears and drew a steadying breath. “It’ll take more than some lumbering clod to do me in, Harry.” She took the hand he offered and let him him help her up. 

He summoned her bag. “If you’re sure,” he said quietly as he looped her things over his shoulder. “Want to grab something to eat before defense?” He offered her his arm. From opposite her smug antagonists, her sweet girl glared with obvious rage.

She tried to smile reassuringly at Daphne, but it fell flat when she hid a flinch at a pain in her hip. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it.” She forced herself to walk the rest of the way to the table with dignity.

An hour into defense class, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The hard chair caused her blooming bruises to ache, but she dared not stand to cast a cushioning charm until after she demonstrated her stun and shield spell chain. As she stood, her foot caught the strap of her bag, but she kept herself from falling. 

“Miss Granger, you’ll stand against Mr. Longbottom,” Professor Moody waved them to the front. 

Neville looked worriedly at her and mouthed, “You’re ok?”

She nodded shortly. _I may end up defending myself in less than ideal condition one day. May as well practice._ She gripped her wand and frowned when she saw Neville do the same. His held his wand loosely and without clear control. Even though she moved too slowly to get the first spell out, she cast her shield without issue. His spell ricocheted back at him, but he managed to avoid it. 

“You need to work on your casting, Mr. Longbottom,” Moody grumbled from one side. “And, Miss Granger, never let your adversary get off the first spell. You may not get a chance to respond.”

They both nodded and took their stance again. This time, she disarmed Neville before he could adjust the grip on his wand. Their Professor seemed satisfied, “Go ahead, Miss Granger. Mr. Longbottom, you’ll stay,” he scanned the room. “Mr. Weasley, your turn.” She stepped cautiously back to her seat and cast a cushioning charm before she sat. It took three more students before Neville was able to land a spell and resign from the front. 

Professor Moody scanned the room, “Mr. Potter! Come up!” Harry stood and approached the front. “Nearly any spell can be used offensively! Just because you can’t cast an unforgivable, doesn’t mean you can’t win a duel!”

She shifted to try and see around Seamus’s head but landed on a bruise. When she flinched, she kicked her bag and heard the glass jar thunk. _I forgot all about my beetle! I hope Bulstrode’s little stunt didn’t kill it._ She kept her hands before her and watched as Harry blocked a series of adapted first and second year spells.

He pivoted and angled his shield charm so that the stream of steaming water sent from the professor’s wand struck the back wall of the class. Another quick back and forth rocked him back onto one foot. Proving Harry’s reputation for improvisation, he summoned an empty chair and transfigured it midair. The wooden shield only blocked one spell before it clattered to the ground, but it gave him time to disarm their professor with enough force that he stumbled.

Professor Moody regained his footing and imperiously held out his hand for his wand. “Take your seat, Mr. Potter,” he growled out.

While Harry made his way back to his chair, she quickly dug out her beetle. _You’re alive! Silly to be worried about a bug, but I’d have felt guilty for getting you killed._

A shadow cast over her menacingly, and her heart stuttered in her chest. “Miss Granger,” Moody took the jar from her. “Next time, keep your pets out of my class.” He shambled back to his desk and set her beetle at the corner. She chewed on her bottom lip and hoped that he had no plans for torturous demonstrations during the second half of class. 

* * *

Class dismissed calmly as Professor McGonagall would accept no less. Daphne’s heart stuttered a bit with nerves even as she reaffirmed her decision to come clean. She smiled tremulously at Tracey. “Mind if we go off and chat a bit?”

“Certainly,” she replied with obvious curiosity. 

They walked quietly until they got away from their fellow students. Even then, they kept their conversation light and focused on their schoolwork. She lead them along the familiar path to Hermione’s study room.

Once she opened the door, Tracey stepped through and looked around with interest. “So this is where you sneak off to?” she asked her with a gentle smile.

Daphne cringed a little at the question and began to set her privacy charms on the door and secret passage. “Sorry that I’ve not been around as much…”

Her friend made herself comfortable in Harry’s favorite chair, “I understood that it would be different now that you have a boyfriend, but I didn’t expect you to be so… unavailable,” her friend’s words were simple and said without condemnation, but she still felt sadness and regret.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk to you,” she stopped and tried to gather her thoughts.

“You mean about all the sneaking off you’ve been doing?” Tracey asked, raising her eyebrows in a silent challenge.

“That’s part of it,” she admitted. “I’ve been keeping secrets, and I’ll have to ask you to keep them as well if I tell you.”

“Who all knows these secrets?” she inquired cautiously. 

Daphne smiled at the question. “You’re wise to make sure you know what I’m asking before you agree.”

Tracey shrugged, “We’ve been sitting in the same lessons since we were four years old.”

“True,” she nodded. “Right now, the only people that know what I’m about to tell you are Harry, Hermione, Dobby, Winky, and Ron Weasley.”

“Ron Weasley!” she exclaimed in shock. “He’s one of the biggest gossips in our year! Why would you trust him?” Her unasked question twisted a knife of guilt through her. 

“Why would I trust him and not you, you mean?” she asked softly.

Tracey averted her eyes and said nothing. 

She rose from her chair and moved to the sofa in an effort to sit closer to her friend. “I didn’t confide in Ron,” she said quietly. “He found out by accident. Fortunately, his reputation for being a blabbermouth has been a bit overstated.”

“So, this secret, do you want a vow before you tell me?” she still sounded hurt.

“No,” she assured her. “I trust you, Tracey. If you say you’ll keep our secrets, I know that you will.”

“Our secrets?” she asked.

“Yes,” she told her. “If this get’s out, it could be very hard on more than me. Especially with the blood purists getting bolder around school.”

“Daphne,” she started. “I’m hurt that you’ve been keeping secrets from me, but you’re still my best friend. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. It wasn’t my intent.” She chewed her bottom lip lightly. “Harry and I, uh… we’re not actually together.” 

Tracey’s eyes widened with surprise, “What? But the two of you have been -” She cut herself off and shook her head. “Sorry, maybe start at the beginning?”

“The very beginning you already know, but the start of keeping secrets… well, I guess it would be the day I first kissed Hermione,” she looked over to the dueling section of the study room and smiled softly even as Tracey sputtered in shock.

* * *

In the past week, Rita had imagined thousands of ways that she would respond to being free of her mudblood captor. Instead of joy, relief and glee; she felt terror. In the unnatural silence of her glass prison, she saw Granger approach Moody’s desk. 

Her vision, as a beetle, did not allow her to read lips, but she anticipated a hand reaching for her jar. She even scurried to stabilize herself so that she would not knock about as her confine tilted in the girl’s grasp. Instead, the girl turned and walked away. 

_No! Come back here you awful bitch!_ She knew Moody was a madman. His penchant for teaching the unforgivable curses with insects and rats was known by all, but his old auror students used to whisper of other things. _Dawlish even said he had the entire class demonstrate curses and counters on a tarantula until the creature ate it’s own detached leg._ She shuddered with horror at being left to the absent mercy of Alastor Moody.

In the stillness of her jar, she settled quietly under her rose bloom. She ignored the promise of food from the flower. Against her will, she found herself grateful for the light coming in and the stillness beneath her feet. _It was dreadfully dark in that girl’s bag. And I thought for sure I would be crushed by the insane amount of books she carried._ Several times, the bag jarred and rattled so hard that she and her flower had tumbled around against the cold glass.

 _Perhaps he’ll forget about me?_ She had feared being forgotten by Granger girl. For days, she had worried that she would suffocate or dry up, but the girl had been unwavering in her routine care. Now, she dreaded and longed to be forgotten in equal measure.

She rested and waited under her bruised rose for the next calamity. Hope, a sentiment she once scorned as weakness, bubbled up in her at the opening classroom door. It dashed quickly when she saw a Ravenclaw step through. As the student talked to her new captor, she forced herself to eat a bit of the wilting rose. Her only chance at escape would come if he opened her jar. 

* * *

“Viktor!” a voice called behind him. 

He turned and gave Hermione a wide smile. “Good afternoon, Hermione.” He waved a hand toward the lake and lowering sun. “Join me for walk?”

She smiled back at him and nodded, “I would like that. I was hoping to talk to you today.” He let her fall into step with him and wondered about the forced look to her smile and the tension in her posture. He decided to let silence carry them outside where they would have more privacy. 

The fresh air seemed to ease her mind, but she was plainly lost in thought as they approached the lake. “Hermione?” he waited for her attention before continuing. “What bothers you?”

“I feel foolish, but…” she sighed. “The beetle that you caught was not a recording crystal. I had intended to bring it with me to talk to you this evening, but Professor Moody confiscated it during class.”

He looked at her with surprise, “I was certain that beetle was same one that I had seen.”

She shrugged stiffly, “Perhaps there’s another explanation, but I can’t think what it would be.” 

“Is Skeeter mystery only thing that bothers you?” he asked skeptically.

“No,” she laughed and finally began to relax. “I guess I just feel bad about getting it take up. By Moody especially.”

He grinned and shook his head at her. “You have guilt over a beetle you nearly crushed when I found it.”

She lightly slapped his arm at his teasing. “I know it sounds stupid. After a week of caring for it, I had almost convinced myself to keep it as a pet.”

He could hold it in no longer. He threw his head back and laughed. She pretended to glare at him for a moment before she joined him.

* * *

After sitting on the edge of his desk for long enough that the sun sank below the horizon, Moody drew his wand. Rita froze in terror. _There’s no one here to demonstrate to… PLEASE!_

Instead of excruciating pain or oblivion, she realized that the air was refreshed. She slowly relaxed. _He wouldn’t bother to care for me if he were going to kill me?_ Her traitorous mind refuted that hopeful thought. _Maybe he means to keep you alive for a future class or lesson._

She tried to make sense of the conflicting information. His fearsome reputation seemed at odds with his direct kindness to her, both in that moment and in rescuing her months ago. Slowly, he brought one thick finger up to the glass of the jar. 

For the first time in days, she heard a sound from outside her prison. She was so relieved that she almost thought she imagined the soft noise caused by the friction of his finger against the glass. He smiled, an expression that seemed at odds with the gruesome scars of his face. 

“You’ll want to grab hold of something, pretty,” he said gently. “I’ll try to walk steadily but that’s easier said than done with this leg.”

Shocked, she scurried up the side of the jar and tried to make sense of this madman. _Does he really know who I am? What I am? I’ve been worried about being tortured as a bug, but if he knows that I’m…_ _Azkaban_ _is not a place I ever want to go!_

He carefully lifted her prison and set it into his front coat pocket. She tried to think of anything she could use to keep him from turning her in, but she had always made an effort to avoid him. _I’ll get no mercy from Director Bones either. That woman would gladly see me rot._

Thanks to his warning, she was prepared for the rocking jerks of his gait. However, she was completely unprepared for the sounds that greeted her when he left the classroom. The corridor was a cacophony after her lengthy stay in her silent prison. She heard him speak briefly to students that he passed. 

As she held herself steady, she tried to puzzle out his strange behavior. The solution to the mystery eluded her in the short time it took him to arrive at his quarters. The modest room held two arm chairs and a small table. The large fireplace opposite the door dwarfed the comfortable looking seating arrangement. 

He set her on the little table. She moved around the jar to follow his movements around the room. To her shock, he spoke to her as though she were a treasured guest. 

“I was relieved to see you today, little one,” he assured her. “I worried the past few days when I hadn’t seen any trace of you. Usually, I can find you on the grounds in some form.” He winked at her coyly with his non-magic eye. The incongruous sight only increased her nerves.

She watched attentively as he stomped through a doorway into what must have been the bedroom of his private space. With him out of sight, she strained her little beetle senses and heard a thunk of a trunk lid opening. Something crashed and she fled to hide beneath her rose.

“Clumsy!” he laughed from the next room. “Reparo,” he said apparently fixing something he had dropped and broke. He returned to her field of view with a glass potions bottle. Carefully, he set it next to hers and began to transfigure it. 

He worked quietly for a moment, then turned her jar so that she faced it. “What do you think?” To her surprise, she stared out of her jar into its double. While she could not verify the top, the base of it was identical down to the bubbled flaw in the glass just above the seam. 

He examined the jars side by side and made a few adjustments to the empty cell. “I’ll be done in a few moments, Reetle,” he murmured to her. She flinched at the nickname. “You don’t mind that I call you that? It’s how I think of you, pretty Reetle, the cleverest beetle on earth.”

Somehow, the confirmation that he knew her secret relieved her. Moody was a maniac, but no story suggested he was such a lunatic as to torture and murder a defenseless animagus. He nodded in satisfaction and moved away from the jar.

“Winky!” he barked out, all tenderness gone from his voice. A small female house elf appeared before him, her wide eyes and drooping ears suggested fear and hurt. Her relief drained from her.

“Yes, sirs,” she whispered tremulously.

“I won’t make it to the hall for dinner,” he said briskly. “Make me a generous tray and be quick with it.”

If she answered him, it was too low for her to hear. The little elf popped away, and Moody turned his wand on a coat hanging in the corner. “Diffindo,” he cast, severing a button from the bottom. “Accio button.” It flew into his hand.

“I wanted to get my transfiguration mastery,” he confided as he set the button on the table between the two jars. “I was working on my animagus meditations in secret because my father insisted I needed to follow in his footsteps.” Her antennae brushed against the rose petals as they twitched in confusion.

He carefully crafted her beetle doppelganger from the plain wooden button. His eyes roved back and forth between her and it as he worked. Against her best judgement, she found herself impressed with his eye for detail. The elf appeared with a tray of scrumptious food just as he finished.

He performed the last step, then he stupefied the bug before she could attempt to flee. He unscrewed the jar lid and levitated the button beetle into it. Her own cage drifted smoothly up from the table to rest on the mantle of the fireplace. The elf placed her tray onto the table.

“Winky,” he held out the jar with the fake beetle. “You’re to take this to whereever your little witch was keeping her bug.” He lifted his wand and cast again. Suddenly, her bruised and lightly nibbled rose appeared within the jar. “After that, keep everyone away from here tonight. My guest will need nutrition potions and a decent meal in the morning.”

“Yes, Master,” she whimpered her response. Obediently, she took the jar and disappeared. 

She fluttered her wings in fear at the reference to a guest. _Does he mean me? Does he mean to force me to transform?_ She had only suffered the pain and disorientation of a forced transition once, and she had no desire to revise the experience. 

To her horror, he walked to the mantle and removed her lid. Rather than cast any magic on her, he only set the lid beside the jar and stepped back. “Where were we, my pretty Reetle?”

He sat into the chair and began removing his prosthetics. “Ah, yes,” he smiled at her. Without his mad eye, the smile was more reassuring. “I had hoped for a great many things that my father did not approve of. He wanted an heir, not a son. I hated him for his expectations.” 

He broke open a meat pie, and the scent wafted into her glass cell. Though her beetle self had been nourished with the plant life the little wretch had provided, her human brain longed for that taste of real food. _I never knew I could salivate in this form, but I swear that I’m drooling for a bite of that pie._

“By the time I met Bella, I was a festering wound of pain and anguish. I was ripe for her particular brand of teaching,” he took a reflective bite of his food even as she froze. 

_Met Bella? Bellatrix Lestrange? Alastor Moody was no death eater!_ She tried to make sense of what she was hearing, but it was so overwhelming. _I’ve spent so long in silence that I’m not even sure how long I’ve been imprisoned. Nothing makes sense to me right now! Is he trying to trick me into revealing something?_

Slowly, deliberately, the man pulled his flask from his pocket. He set it on the table next to the tray. “It’s useful for everyone to think you’re a drunk, but it makes for a lonely time.” He huffed a laugh. “I hate alcohol.” He darted a look her direction. “Not so much the drinker… Drunks are incredibly useful, my master has often found this to be true. I just loath the flavor. It numbs my tongue.”

With his wooden leg and false eye tossed to the side, he stretched out into his chair. He gave a mighty shudder as though repulsed. He reached backward with his arms and his whole body seemed to lengthen and slim. To her shock, Moody melted and elongated into a much younger and handsomer man.

He gave a half crazed smile, but through it, she recognized an older Barty Crouch Jr. “My pretty Reetle, now that you know my secret, and I know yours,” he waved a hand toward the tray. “Won’t you join me for dinner?”

His loose sleeve drifted back to reveal the shadow of his dark mark, but, to her, his angular face and warm brown eyes were evidence of a welcome haven. She fluttered her wings and crawled carefully up the side of the jar. Once she reached the rim of the jar, she stretched her wings and took flight. 

Midair, she transitioned into her human form with gratitude. As her feet struck the floor, she extended her hands to the ceiling. The bliss of a full stretch nearly made her dizzy. Carefully hiding her reaction, she stepped toward the vacant chair with a smile. “Dinner sounds lovely. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting early due to Hurricane Laura -- Hopefully, I'll be able to post as scheduled on Saturday.


	15. Chapter 15

Peter stepped out of the shadows around Crouch House and cursed at the chaos that had been wrought by so called well wishers. _Damned scavengers!_ He swore at the sight of the litter on the yard. _Molly would never have allowed such shenanigans in her domain._ He quickly banished thoughts of the woman that had welcomed him into her home.

He grumbled and picked around the rubbish. Before him stood the ash tree that marked the true northern corner of the property. He focused on the soil between the roots. _A brute might rip up the tree, but my master needs subtlety._ He cast a switching spell between the ward stone that twined around the base roots and the lump of stone he carried in his pocket. 

The magically infused limestone weighed down his pocket, but he remained focused on the task his master had set him. He crossed to the southern corner careful to keep to the shadows. He cast again and the weight in his pockets balanced each other. _Leave it to House Crouch to have such perfectly identical stones. That foolish buffoon probably never thought of the risks of that symmetry._ He apperated away with his treasures and wondered if Barty would feel the wards fall. 

Back at Riddle Manor, he shuddered at the change in weather. The steady rain made his task even more uncomfortable, but he knew better than to venture inside without finishing. His master’s short temper had gotten even shorter as his vessel failed him.

A quick Point Me spell sent him to the true northern point of the property. He verified the spot twice before he cast the spell to tunnel out the mud. He wrinkled his nose in revulsion and ignored the sensation of whiskers twitching. The northern ward stone from the Crouch property drifted up from his pocket and into the hole. He covered it with the mud and caused the grass to regrow. 

Once that spot looked undisturbed, he repeated the steps at true south. By that point, his warming charm needed recasting, but he dared not do it. The next steps were delicate and easily skewed by stray magic. _Better cast a general finite over myself before I even get the Albanian stones. Joining the mismatched ward stones will be challenging enough without having to cast a cleansing._

Despite his temptation to hurry and his longing for his bed, Peter methodically cleansed himself of active magic. The rain soaked through his stocking cap and dripped past his collar. He stumbled in the dark and soaked his shoes in a puddle. By the time he made it to the small storage shed next to the house, his fingers ached.

He forced them to wrap carefully around the plain gray stones. To the untrained eye, the two rocks he hefted would seem identical to the ones he had just buried. He stored them each in separate pockets and marched to the true east. The hole he had dug in the light of day was filled with water but not collapsed. He could only hope for the same at true west.

He knelt next to the hole and cringed as mud and water soaked into his trousers. By hand, he lowered the rock into the muck and shoved the pile of mud on top of it. _This is why people usually plant trees and hedges atop fresh ward stones,_ he thought. There was no good way to disguise the scarred earth without magic.

 _One more to go,_ he assured himself. _Inside the house is a warm mug of cocoa and a hot meal._ He tried to pretend that was all that waited for him, but he could not lie to himself that effectively. _It’s nights like this that I miss being Percy’s pampered pet rat._

* * *

Hermione woke slowly and stretched. From the window, she could tell that she had an hour before breakfast. _I can’t believe that I slept so well. I guess my walk with Viktor last night did me some good. Maybe a bit of fresh air after classes is more useful than I thought._

She swung her feet over the side of her bed and glanced to check on her beetle. _I still never found out how it got back here last night. It’s hard to believe that Moody would have reconsidered after confiscating it._ She refreshed the little creature’s air and gathered her things for a shower. 

A few minutes later, she stood beneath the spray. As she often did, she imagined the hot water steaming away the sleepy fog in her mind. Her thoughts drifted back to the different times that she had seen a beetle. She frowned at the realization that she had never seen one on Hogwarts grounds before the tournament. _And yet, the beetle remained after more than a week in that jar. If she had transfigured it, it would have reverted by now._

She shut off the water after a few more blissful minutes and wrapped a warmed towel around herself. She reached for her wand to dry her hair, but it was not on the shelf designated for it. _I left it on my night stand._ She grumbled at her own forgetfulness. Quickly ringing out her hair to minimize the drips, she hurried back to her dorm room. 

“I know Crooksy,” she heard Parvati say. “I don’t know what your mistress sees in that icky bug either.” 

She stepped in to find her roommate petting her cat as he purred happily. “Lots of people keep icky bugs for pets,” she murmured to her friend. “And I don’t know that Crookshanks is the one eager to see me rid of that beetle.”

She looked up at her but kept petting the cat. “Crooksy may be too polite to knock that jar to the floor, but he’s a refined and discerning feline.” She smiled down at him. “I’m still grateful that he got rid of Ron’s awful rat.”

Hermione froze. “Wormtail,” she whisper in horror. 

She threw her clothes on as quickly as she could. Rushing past her confused roommate’s bunk, she grabbed her wand and the jar. As she ran from the room, she registered her roommate telling her cat, “I thought that rat’s name was Scabby or something.”

The common room was dark and quiet until she ran through it. Before she could dash out the door, she forced herself to stop and think. _Who should I talk to about this? Professor McGonagall is the logical choice, but I’m not sure that she’ll see me so early. Maybe I should ask Winky to take her a message._

She frowned at the thought of disturbing her friend so early. _I’ll try Professor McGonagall’s office first. If she isn’t there, I’ll leave her a note._ Decision made, she walked briskly out of the common room and into the still sleepy castle.

When her knock at the office door went unanswered, Hermione dug a scrap of parchment from her pocket only then realizing that she was wearing her robe from the day before. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and wondered if it smelled. She cast a cleaning charm just in case.

Once her note was stuck to the door, she made her way to the Great Hall. The vast space was nearly empty, but the two other people she saw delighted her. With a relieved grin, she approached the staff table where the Headmaster and her head of house sat quietly chatting.

Unconsciously, she bounced on her toes while she waited politely to be acknowledged. “Good morning, Miss Granger,” Headmaster Dumbledore greeted her with a twinkle in his eyes. “Is there something that we can help you with this morning?”

“I think I know how Rita Skeeter is getting her information,” she whispered excitedly. 

Professor McGonagall arched her eyebrows in surprise. “From anyone else, Miss Granger, I would be skeptical. However, I believe that we could take our breakfast in the Headmaster’s office in order to speak privately.”

The two of them rose from their seats and walked around the table. As she fell into step with them, she smiled at the trust that they showed her. A part of her wanted to launch into her explanation en route. She restrained herself with effort until they sat in three arm chairs beside Headmaster Dumbledore’s desk.

He chuckled across from her before she could launch in. “I believe you are buzzing much as Dobby does when excited.” He tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “Thinking of, before we start, we should arranged for breakfast. Dobby, please come here.”

He popped promptly before them, dressed in a small wizard’s robe of bright blue. “Headmastery Mugwump, yous first appointment has cancelled,” he started to say. Suddenly, he met her eyes. “Oh! Missy Hermione, is yous ok?”

She grinned with delight, “I’m very well Dobby. I like your robe; it’s very handsome.”

His ears twitched happily, “Thanks you, Missy Hermione. Is my uniforms for ICW work.”

The headmaster leaned forward a bit, “You said my first appointment has cancelled? Is there something wrong?”

“Nots really, Headmastery Mugwump,” he replied. “Ambassador Delors is havings her baby!”

“Excellent reason to cancel an appointment,” he assured the elf even as Hermione’s eyes widened at a peak into the broader wizarding world. “Please visit Pomona and ask her to piece together a congratulatory arrangement for the new parents. Also, we would appreciate it if you would arrange for us some breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” he answered even as he disappeared. 

“Headmaster,” Hermione asked, unable to hold in her curiosity. “The current president of the EU is Jacques Delors. Is this ambassador a relation?”

He gave her a proud smile that delighted her, “His niece, I believe.” He considered her a moment, “I think that there is much to be said for a person like yourself, Miss Granger. You treat the whole of our world as worth your interest rather than only the magical parts of it.” She blushed at the compliment. Before she could reply, their breakfast tray appeared before them. 

“Perhaps, Albus,” Professor McGonagall started. “You could arrange for Miss Granger to learn a bit more about the workings of the ICW, but for now it’s best if she explain to us her theory about Ms. Skeeter.”

She nodded at the direction and refocused her mind to the task at hand. She drew her jar from her pocket and set it next to the tray. “I believe she’s an unregistered animagus,” she said bluntly.

Her professor gasped in shock, but the headmaster only arched his brows. Professor McGonagall eyed the jar with suspicion and instructed, “Start from the beginning, Miss Granger.”

She drew a breath and ordered her thoughts. “Several of us have been trying to puzzle out how Rita Skeeter has gotten some of the information she has printed. While most of it has been insinuation bordering on outright lies, she has gotten access to enough truth and real statements that it lends her an air of credibility.”

Her audience nodded in agreement, and the Headmaster poured her a cup of tea. “Thank you,” she murmured as she accepted it. “When I realized that some of her quotations were taken from private conversations, I started asking more questions. Viktor told me about recording crystals being disguised by transfiguration.”

She expected that suggestion to be dismissed, but Professor McGonagall nodded selecting a few morsels from the tray. “It’s an egregious invasion of privacy, but it is possible. I believe it occurred with some regularity during the war against Grindelwald.”

“That was our working theory for a few weeks, especially as we kept seeing beetles on the grounds.” Interested eyes fell onto the beetle in the jar. “However, Viktor caught that one the night after the second task. Surely in over a week it would have transitioned back.”

Again it was their transfiguration expert that answered, “It would generally have reverted to form within a day or two.” She pressed her lips together in thought. “It could be kept to that form for longer with skill, but there would be little worth in that. Even a day of recordings from a crystal would be difficult and arduous to sift through.”

“Last night, I was willing to believe that it was simply a beetle that drifted in from outside, but Viktor was certain that it was the same one he had seen on other occasions.” She looked meaningfully at Headmaster Dumbledore. “I thought of the possibility that she’s an animagus this morning. She would not be the first person to fail to register after mastering the skill.”

“Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall rebuked her. “While it is true that registration is on something of an honor system, there are not many skilled witches or wizards that would willingly risk Azkaban for a secret identity. The sort of thing you’re thinking of happens in lurid novels.” She panicked at the realization that her dispute to that argument would require revealing a secret she had sworn to keep. 

Headmaster Dumbledore plucked a grape from a bunch and leaned back with a smile. “Or in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory,” he said matter of factly before eating his grape.

“Albus, surely you are not suggesting that any of my seventh years are secretly working on transformations!” She sounded scandalized.

“I assure you that if I found out such a thing was going on under your nose, I would tell you so that you could properly supervise.” He patted her hand lightly. “When I found out from Remus last year, I had no desire to unnecessarily impact your memory of James.”

It was only when the woman froze that Hermione remembered that James Potter had been her godson. “He was a stag,” she murmured, carefully following the headmaster’s lead on how much to reveal. “Remus says that Harry’s patronus strongly resembles his form.”

“Oh, James,” the woman whispered with tears in her eyes. By unspoken accord, she and Headmaster Dumbledore gave her a moment to wrestle with her grief. When she opened her eyes again, they had filled with rage. “What was Sirius’s? He would never have allowed James to do something like that without him. Those four did everything together!” 

“Now, Minerva,” he started to answer while sending her a cautionary look. 

“No!” she exclaimed, her voice a whip crack of anger. “You know he must be using his form to hide. Now, you and your thrice-be-damned secrets have allowed James’s betrayer to go free! I’ll not easily forgive this!”

“I’ve kept my secrets because I do not believe that any man should face the Dementor’s kiss. Most especially not a man that never received a trial.” He kept his voice even in the face of her anger. For Hermione, it was as awkward and disconcerting as seeing her parents fight.

Her professor closed her eyes and seemed to calm. “You know that I agree with you in spirit. I have long believed that no justice can be had in the use of those vile creatures.” She sat straighter in her seat. “However, I cannot protect my students without knowing what to look for. I will not reveal this to the ministry, but I need to know.”

“A rat,” he said to her surprise. “Poetic don’t you think that James’s betrayer took such a form? It’s as though magic itself tried to warn his friends.”

“A rat,” her mouth twisted bitterly. “Fitting indeed.” Suddenly, she looked over at Hermione as though she had forgotten her presence. “Well, Miss Granger, I am disappointed that you did not confide in me, but I understand that you were given other instructions. In the future, you are to come to me with anything that might impact the safety of you or your fellow students.”

Hermione nodded, sick to her stomach, “Yes, Professor.” She looked to the jar just as it began to shift. “Professor, what’s happening?” She asked in shock. The jar slimmed and shrank into an empty potions bottle. The rose crushed in the narrow neck, and she cried out in horror. 

Her professor summoned the jar and cast with her other hand. The beetle appeared on the tray, and a small berry rested in the bottle. She quickly supefied the bug and sent her a sharp look. “Miss Granger! You must have know how dangerous it was to -”

“I didn’t!” she cried out, cutting her off in her distress. “I used an empty jar from some Giardiniera my mum had sent me.”

Headmaster Dumbledore eyed the still beetle on their tray of food. He drew his wand and cast silently. The bug became a rough looking wooden button. “It would seem that Ms. Skeeter escaped your custody, Miss Granger.”

She looked up at both of them, hoping that they still believed her. “I always kept the lid on the jar. Parvati didn’t like having it around.”

“Did you keep the jar with you?” he asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “I usually left it on my bedside table. The one time that I took it with me, Professor Moody confiscated it.”

“Well,” he said briskly, “we may not have Ms. Skeeter, but we have the ability to counteract her sneaking and lies.”

“You will be alerting the DMLE?” Professor McGonagall sounded brittle at this question. “After all, Ms. Skeeter is not at risk of anything more than a few years in Azkaban.”

“With Miss Granger’s assistance, I’ll ensure that Director Bones and Ms. Skeeter’s employer are both informed.” He smiled at her warmly. “Tell me, Miss Granger, have you read anything about a pensieve?”

* * *

“I hope they’ll put the quidditch pitch back to normal after the third task,” Cedric remarked, frowning at the towering hedges that had sprung up nearly overnight. 

“Are you planning to come back next year and watch me play?” Harry teased as they walked in step to the practice pitch.

“Ha!” he laughed. “More like that I’ll be in the Ravenclaw stands cheering on my girl!”

He faked being hurt, “Now now, I thought we were friends?” His grin broke through, “Surely you won’t cheer my competition!”

“When you’re up against Slytherin, I’ll cheer for you as I always do,” he assured him. “When you’re up against Cho or whoever replaces me on Hufflepuff, all bets are off.”

“Fair enough,” Harry admitted as they joined the clutch of third, fourth and fifth years. When he first decided to run aiming drills for his friends and housemates, he had thought he would have less than a dozen people. Instead, word had spread quickly. Enough people asked to join in that he had invited Cedric to help him.

He stood before his fellow students and cast a sonorous. “Good afternoon, everyone.” At his address, they stopped milling around and clustered into groups. “I appreciate everyone’s patience while Hermione found us a time and place to work.”

His friend grinned at the credit as the other students gave her a round of polite applause. He waited for them to finish before he continued, “I spoke with Professor Lupin and got some suggestions for aiming drills. He also gives his apology for not realizing how bad the instruction was prior to him.”

The fifth years grumbled and mumbled among themselves. Harry heard one of them say, “I heard Rakepick was great, but she left when she had her twins. Bathory was terrible and bloody creepy.”

He recognized the name and realized that he needed to take control before their practice session devolved into a complaint session. “So,” he called out, startling himself when his voice boomed out. “We’re going to split out into partners, and, once we’ve got that, Cedric and I will lead you through the first exercise.”

Hermione rolled her eyes when the students started trying to claim a partner for themselves. He grinned and winked at her. In his normal voice, he asked, “How many people do we have, Hermione?”

“There’s twenty, not counting you and Cedric,” she answered promptly.

“Perfect,” he announced. “Since we have an even number, we’ll do this the muggle way. Starting with Sarah,” he smiled encouragingly at the muggle born girl. “I want each of you to count off. Once we get to ten, we’ll start the count again. Make sure you remember your number.” The purebloods seemed a little confused, but they were rapidly paired off. Since the students had clustered with their year mates at the beginning, all of the third years were paired with someone older. 

Cedric stepped forward and levitated a box of tennis balls. A wave of his wand had them duplicated in front of each pair. “Alright,” he told their students. “Each pair is to spread well out and take turns tossing a ball into the air. The other is to cast until the ball has either changed colors or hits the ground. Harry and I will be walking around to help correct your stance and provide tips.”

Daphne and Tracey walked out to join them, “We didn’t miss anything?”

Harry smiled, “Not so far.” He looked around at the confusion as the pairs tried to space out under Hermione’s direction. “Would you mind helping us get everyone organized? They need to be spread enough that they won’t hit each other. We told them to stick to color spells, but, just in case someone gets creative, we don’t want to overload Madame Pomphrey.”

The girls nodded and moved through the groups. He watched a moment, admiring Daphne’s natural leadership, before moving forward to address an issue. It took another few minutes before Cedric called that they could begin. 

They started slowly with several kids tossing the tennis balls too softly to stay in the air. Harry walked over and demonstrated a gentle underhand throw to the closest pair. With a nod, the Hufflepuff boy copied his technique. 

Soon, chaos took over. Grass and school robes splotched with bright colors. Tennis balls covered the ground, and students laughed at their misses. He stepped over to Neville and corrected his grip on his wand. Tracey sent him a tentative smile and took over with his partner. The third year had splatters of color across his robe but only laughed and waved.

He gestured for Neville to follow him and took up as his partner for a moment. After two good shots, his friend relaxed to the poorer grip he had before. “Nev, is that still your father’s wand?”

He frowned at the question, “Yeah.”

Cedric joined them, “You inherited a wand?”

He nodded, “My dad was an auror. A really good one.”

“You know,” the older boy told them. “Wand lore is a fascinating topic. Mr. Olivander says the wand chooses the wizard, but it’s not so simple as that.” He held out his hand for Neville’s wand then promptly passed his to the younger boy. “We could trade wands, like so, and it won’t change our wand’s allegiance. Try casting with it.”

Harry scooped up a tennis ball and tossed it gently in the air for his friend. As before, his spell delayed before it came weakly out. “Doesn’t really feel any different…” he told them, looking down at Cedric’s wand.

“It resisted you just as yours does,” he stated. “You’re not going to be the wizard you could be if you don’t have your own wand.” He rested a kind hand on his shoulder. “At the very least, hold it like it’s yours. When you do get your own wand, you don’t want to have to break years of bad habit.”

Something nagged at Harry, but, before he could figure out what it was, one of the practicing pairs shouted. He spun to find Goyle threatening a third year with his wand out. He and Cedric quickly moved to intervene. Ron barreled down as well, and he desperately hoped that Hermione would stop him. His temperamental friend would only escalate the conflict.

Cedric deliberately kept his pace quick but at a walk. To his surprise, the other boy’s confident strides served to calm their students. By the time they approached the angry Slytherin, Cedric was clearly in command of the situation. 

“Alright then, Greg?” he asked evenly.

“No! I’m not alright!” the agitated boy sputtered. “I was just walking by when I got tagged with a stupid ball and half my robe turned pink! What do you think you’re doing out here, anyway?”

Cedric hummed thoughtfully, “That’s a good point you make, Greg.” He looked around at their group. “What do you think Harry? Set markers up about halfway up the path?”

He looked where his friend indicated and saw, rather than a path, at most a section of shorter grass. Rather than argue, he nodded. “Yeah, I think that sounds right.”

“That was good idea, Greg,” he told the bewildered bully. “Thanks for the suggestion.” He waved his wand to restore his robes and called out, “Does anyone have a handkerchief or a scarf I could borrow? I need at least two.”

Greg, still confused, simply said, “See that you mark it clear. Don’t want anyone else getting hit.”

Harry gave him his most charming smile, “We’ll see to it before we start up again.”

“Right,” he grunted. With all the social grace of a walrus, he stomped away without another word. In less than five minutes, the course was clearly marked with transfigured barricades, and the lessons began again.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita's sins come out to the world, and the blood purists cause mayhem in Potions.

Martin had never been called to speak to the entire editorial board of The Daily Prophet before. He normally got his direction from Barnabas Cuffe directly. As he stepped forward to be admitted into the large board room, his heart pattered in anticipation and nervousness. _Either this is going to be the best day of my career or the worst._

To his shock, Madame Augusta Longbottom and Head Greengrass flanked Barnabas at the table. He ignored the rest of the attendees and felt his heart sink. “Hello, Martin,” his boss beckoned him forward but did not indicate a seat for him. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”

He nodded politely, but kept silent. _As if I had any choice in the matter,_ he thought bitterly. 

“Mr. Adwr,” Augusta Longbottom frowned sternly as she addressed him. “We’ve not seen any recent articles from Ms. Skeeter. While your coverage on the second task was refreshingly factual, I do wonder why The Prophet’s star reporter was not the one to write the piece.”

His cheeks heated, and he cursed Rita for her disappearing act. “I’m afraid that Rita had a personal emergency to attend to,” he stammered over the lie.

“Then you’ve heard from her?” Barnabas inquired.

He went cold and desperately tried to decide why he felt like they were setting a trap. “I’ve known Rita for over fifteen years,” he told them honestly. “I’ve never known her to leave a story without a good reason.”

“Would you consider her being outed as an illegal animagus a good reason?” Barnabus asked him bluntly.

His knees went weak with shock. “I,” he cut himself off and drew a shaky breath. “I assume that you have evidence of that?”

Head Greengrass spoke up, “We have more evidence of that than she has had of some of her published insinuations.”

Somehow, his sharp tone calmed Martin and allowed him to steady himself. _They’re not after me; they want her. This may be my chance to free myself._ He drew his wand and conjured a chair. “I don’t know anything about illegal methods of gathering information,” he told them bluntly. He closed his eyes and gathered his courage, “but it would explain how she has managed to blackmail me and other members of our community over the years.”

“Blackmail?” Augusta Longbottom spoke up, somehow not surprised by his assertion. “That’s a very serious accusation. I think, Mr. Adwr, that you should tell us everything.”

* * *

For once, Harry’s potion was on track and bubbling away as it should. He watched over their cauldrons while Neville went to get the fresh bog myrtle flowers from the stasis shelf of the potion cabinet. _No matter what people think, he’s got an eye for plants that can’t be matched,_ he thought of the awkward boy. 

Ahead of him, he saw that Ron was staring blankly at his and Hermione’s simmering brews. He frowned a little at the sight before him. “Psst,” he hissed quietly. The red head stiffened. “Lower your fire down to what Hermione’s is set at. Your potion’s boiling too high.”

He held his breath in hopes that Professor Snape had not heard him in the buzz and commotion of people moving about the room with their fresh ingredients. Ron did as he said, and Harry glanced up to see whether Neville was on his way back. He stood before the stasis with Hermione and selected buds from the back of the shelf while she held a jar of fluxweed leaves out of his way. 

He bit his lip as Crabbe approached them with a malicious smile on his face. Harry stepped closer reflexively. The brutish Slytherin looked back at Pansy. “How many buds do we need?” he called out over his shoulder.

When he slammed sideways into Neville, the force sent the smaller boy spinning. He knocked into Hermione hard. Bog Myrtle and Fluxweed went flying. Harry, his wand in his bag as demanded by their professor, used parchment and his seeker’s reflexes to keep anything from landing in the cauldrons before him. 

Ron was not so lucky. He dove sideways into the walkway as two cauldrons full of half brewed Lesion Antidote turned orange and exploded outward. Crabbe cast a shield charm to avoid the toxic spew even as other students screamed. The sticky liquid ricocheted and burned like hot grease as it splashed into Harry’s face. Neville managed to shield Hermione with his body but screamed in pain as he was hit. 

Chaos reined for another moment as Snape descended on them. “What idiocy! Longbottom! You’ve ruined half my potion stocks with your clumsiness!” He waved a wand to clear up the potions. “I would give you a month of detentions if I didn’t worry that you would destroy the entire potion lab!”

Even as he spewed his venom and anger at Neville, the boy’s face swelled up and his lips began to split. “Professor!” Hermione shouted over him. “Neville and Harry need the hospital wing. They are injured.” Somehow, she sounded surprised by the man’s callousness.

“Potter,” he spit as he turned to him. “Take your partner to the hospital wing. You’ll both receive no credit for today due to your blunders.”

His face burned too much to be angry. Seeing that Neville's eyes had swollen shut, Harry grabbed both of their bags. With a wince, he balanced them on one shoulder and propped his friend up with another. “Come on, then. Madame Pomphrey will have us fixed up in no time.”

He whimpered a little in pain as he replied, “Can you see where we’re going, Harry?”

“Yeah,” he assured him. “The stuff splashed off my glasses.” As they moved out of the room, he felt numb as he heard Snape award Crabbe ten points for his shield charm. 

They shambled along in near silence for the first few minutes. Every step jarred their tender burned flesh, and their chests heaved with effort despite their slow pace. At the end of the hall, Harry led them toward a shortcut. 

Neville stumbled over the grade as the floor slanted upward from the dungeons. He moaned in pain but managed to catch some of his weight on the wall. They both stood there trying to catch their breath. 

“I’m really sorry about this, Harry,” his words slurred through his swollen and bleeding lips.

He started to shake his head, but it hurt too much. _It’s not like he could see it anyway._ “This isn’t your fault, Nev. Crabbe knocked into you so that he could hurt Hermione. If he hadn’t been planning it, he wouldn’t have had his wand ready with that shield charm.” He carefully took them up the hall a few steps.

“Pity that you followed Snape’s instructions, otherwise you could have done the same,” he whimpered a little as he spoke. “Then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

He grunted a little, but only warned, “Ok, Neville, we’re coming up to a gap in the hall. We’ll go slow, and I’ll support your weight. Just try to keep your feet, I don’t think I could keep us from going over.”

Carefully, they stepped across the open space. Harry made an effort to pick up his feet to avoid catching on the uneven edges of the floor. Every jolt as he stepped down caused his face to throb. To distract them both, he spoke, “It was brave of you to step in front of Hermione the way you did.” 

“Well,” he huffed a pain filled laugh. “It’s not like I could have cast a shield charm even if I’d had my wand.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Harry tried to say. Instead, it ended in a shout as he stumbled and barely caught them with a hand he only then realized was also badly burned. His yell echoed down the corridor loudly.

They stopped again as he breathed raggedly through his burned and oozing lips. His heart pounded in his ears, and he nearly jumped in surprise as Astoria came around the corner. “Harry? What happened?” she cried out at what must have been a horrifying sight. 

“Potions accident,” Neville explained shortly.

She pulled off her tie and transfigured it into a stretcher. Blessing her clear head, Harry helped Neville onto it. “It’s a pity I can’t cast a Patronus. I could send Madame Pomphrey a message to meet us.” She efficiently levitated the cot. 

He vaguely registered her comment. “I don’t think I can cast one in this state,” he told her. “But I didn’t even know I could send a message with one.”

She appraised him with a glance and asked, “Do you think you can make it on your own feet? I can’t levitate you both, I don’t think.”

“I’ll be ok,” he reassured her. “It’s not too much worse than getting splashed with hot cooking oil.” Moving was easier without having to worry about jarring Neville, and he followed her down the hall. “At least at Hogwarts, I’ll have some magical medical treatment.” To himself, he continued, _Muggle methods for burns can leave a lot to be desired._

He focused on her black clad figure beside the green and silver stretcher. As he walked, he barely noticed how the world blurred around the edges. From his prone friend, he heard a groan. “Harry, my bag. My things are still,” he faded away with pain before he could finish. 

“I’ve got your bag, Neville,” he mumbled. “I picked it up on our way out.”

“Mmm, thanks mate,” he slurred. “My gran would never forgive me if I lost my dad’s wand.” His word registered, but they felt meaningless. Just as the group made it to the doors of the hospital wing, his vision grayed out entirely and went black.

* * *

On one side of Albus’s desk, a copy of The Daily Prophet blared: **Rita Skeeter - Illegal** **Animagus** **: Wanted by the DMLE for failure to register and blackmail of prominent citizens.** Below the headline, her byline photo smiled beside a freeze of her beetle form from pensieve memories. The Prophet editorial board had moved quickly to ensure that they were not accused of complicity.

Beneath the day’s copy of the paper, her unpublished expose on his life taunted him. His lip curled in disgust as he stared at the manuscript of his every secret laid bare in lurid detail. He considered immolating the wretched thing in hopes that it would sooth his anger at the violation. _I can’t combat her revelations and insinuations if I don’t know what they are. She is discredited, but that may make her more volatile._ With an abundance of control, he reached for the thick draft. He lifted it by hand to avoid temptation and dropped it into the warded desk drawer that also contained Riddle’s damaged diary. 

Next, he reached for the envelope and note that had accompanied it. Grateful for a rare chance to catch up, he referred to them both as he drafted a quick thank you note. Afterall, Hector Herald had done him a great favor, and Albus was raised a gentleman.

Once the note rested on top of his other outbound correspondence, he reached to discard the large envelope. He noticed as he picked it up that another letter had stuck to the bottom of it. He frowned at the idea of missing a letter and hoped that it was not time sensitive. The sight of Molly Weasley’s handwriting and a series of expansion runes only increased his curiosity.

He pulled the note out and set it aside. His eyes widened as he removed a well used ritual journal next. Like his departed friend Edward Wadlow, Molly had tucked parchment and photos into her journal to augment her notes. The most surprising items were at the bottom. Securely wrapped, she had included seven silvery memory vials. He unfolded her note and began to read.

> Professor Dumbledore,
> 
> Despite the many occasions that you have invited me to use your name, I hope that you understand my reluctance comes from a place of great respect. In the year since we spoke regarding my Ginny’s difficult encounter with that cursed book, I have become more concerned and frustrated. It is out of respect for you and love for my daughter that I disturb you with what may seem a trivial question of ritual design.
> 
> As you know from our conversation, I was able to remove the darkness that stained my Ginny’s magic. To my great distress, I have not been able to banish it. With this letter, I have included my memories of seven rituals. The memories are marked with the date and the journal is marked with my corresponding notes. (You may recognize my system from my ritual master. I recall that you were friends.)
> 
> We discussed the first ritual before Ginny returned for her second year, but there may still be something relevant in the memory. The second ritual is one I used to bind the stain to my least favorite wooden spoon. The subsequent five are rituals that I used to attempt to banish the darkness from this realm. Sadly, all five banishment rituals have failed.
> 
> I believe that the first three failures were due to ritual design. You will see in my notes that I attempted to adapt existing rituals used to exorcise possessed objects or poltergeists. The rituals were more than unsuccessful. Each time, the stain nearly unbound from the spoon and attacked me. 
> 
> The last two rituals were based on research related to the banishment of ghosts. I hope you will not think ill of me for exploring this topic. I assure you that I have no wish to disrupt the dead. I only wish to eliminate this putrid darkness from my home and the world.
> 
> The two rituals stand out as the results were very different. I have come to question whether this stain could be a part of a larger whole. If so, could that larger whole be holding it to our plane?
> 
> If you review my research and feel that I have misread my sources and results, I will be relieved to know that I am wrong. If, however, you come to believe that I have found the issue, I hope that you will make time to consult with me on a solution. It is my profound hope to have that fetid evil gone from my house before my children return.
> 
> With respect and gratitude,
> 
> Molly Weasley

Albus stared at the letter for a moment and collected his thoughts. Molly had been a promising rituals student before Edward had died. The fact that she reached out for help suggested that she had exhausted the standard cleansing rituals and other obvious solutions. 

He pulled an empty memory vial from the box of them that he kept in his desk. He focused on the conversation that he and Molly had after their return from Egypt. With a touch of his wand, the memory came away from his temple. He stored that in the jar for reference. 

“Dobby,” he called out. When his assistant appeared, he requested, “I have some work that requires my pensieve. I believe I left it at my ministry office. Would you please retrieve it?”

“Yessie, Headmastery Mugwump,” he replied promptly. Before he had even faded from sight, Albus had turned to the first section of the ritual journal. 

* * *

From outside the hospital wing door, Minerva could hear the familiar sounds of Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Added to the soft voices this time, she heard Daphne Greengrass. She walked into the open medical ward and glanced over at the two occupied beds. 

“Good evening, Mr. Potter,” she nodded toward the boy reclining in the bed. His face was pink with shiny new skin. The regrowth was testament to the extent of his injuries. “Good evening, Mr. Longbottom,” her other lion had required even more reconstruction. His eyes were covered by linen. _I hope that is to protect new tissue and not indication of damage to the poor boy’s eyes._

“Good evening, Professor McGonagall,” Harry said softly. Ron helped him sit up a bit more while Daphne repositioned his pillow. “Neville isn’t supposed to speak right now. Some of the potion vapors got in his throat.”

Hermione looked up from his bedside where she was holding his unbandaged hand. “He knows you’re here though, and he’s glad, aren’t you, Neville?” To her surprise, she saw him squeeze the girl’s hand. “We’ve got a code,” she explained. “One squeeze for yes, two for no. It’s not complicated, but Madame Pomphrey says he’ll be well enough to talk by tomorrow evening.”

She sent them all a somber smile. “That’s very clever. Ten points to Gryffindor for helping a friend.” She looked toward Poppy’s closed door and knew that she would still be consulting with St. Mungo’s. “Mr. Potter, has Madame Pomphrey said how your injuries are fairing?”

He shrugged jerkily, “She said most of the burns just needed regrown. My lips and the side of my face were the worst of it.”

She eyed the pink skin covering his left hand. “The worst, but, not all of it, I assume?”

He smirked at some inner joke then flinched as he stretched his healing lip. “My hands weren’t too bad. I didn’t even realize they were burned until I stumbled on the way here.”

“Do you mean to say, Mr. Potter,” she started, coldly clinging to her control. “Do you mean to tell me that your professor did not escort you to the hospital wing?”

The fourth years looked to each other in surprise, but it was Daphne that replied. “Professor Snape’s never escorted someone to the hospital wing in my experience.” She glanced down at her boyfriend. “I tried to get him to let me take you and Neville today, but he wouldn’t allow it.”

“That isn’t exactly what he said,” surprisingly, it was Ron that spoke up. “He accused you of trying to get out of class, like you were asking to take a romantic walk.” He mutinously held her gaze. “It was insulting! That’s what it was, Daphne, and he would have said worse had Hermione or I asked.”

Her coworker’s abrasive personality was well known, but this was something she might finally use to bring him in line. “Mr. Potter,” she said carefully. “Please tell me, succinctly and without embellishment, how you and Mr. Longbottom came to be here today.”

He looked her at with a blank expression, “Very well, Professor. Neville and I were at the same station working on Lesion Antidote potions. Each station was told to only send one person for fresh bog myrtle to keep from crowding the potion supply cabinet.”

He reached for a glass of water, and Daphne helped him take a sip so he could go on. “Neville was at the stasis shelf, as was Hermione. Ron was at the station in front of mine, and he and I were monitoring the simmer.” His clarity surprised her, but he continued before she could think on it. “Vincent Crabbe walked up and knocked into Neville. Neville knocked into Hermione, and everything they were holding went flying.”

Unable to hold back, Ron jumped in when his friend paused. “Harry managed to keep the stuff out of his and Neville’s cauldron, but I wasn’t so lucky. The contents just exploded out of our cauldrons.”

Harry picked back up the story. “Neville blocked Hermione from getting hit. Crabbe managed to cast a shield charm, and a bunch of the stuff ricocheted off it onto me.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t cast your own shield charm,” she said softly. “You usually have very quick reflexes.”

His lips tightened, and she tensed, knowing that she would not like what was said next. “Professor Snape ordered us all to put our wands in our bags for class. He said he would confiscate any that he saw today.”

She made a mental note, then forced them all back on track. “Once you were injured, how did you get to the hospital wing?”

“Once Hermione pointed out that we were injured,” he cut a quelling look at Ron who seemed ready to jump in. “Once she pointed out that we were injured, Professor Snape told me to take Neville to the hospital wing. So, we walked here.” He smiled slightly at Daphne. “I stumbled at one point and must have shouted. Astoria found us and helped us the rest of the way.” He looked back to her, “She turned her tie into a stretcher. It was a pretty good piece of transfiguration.”

She nodded absently at that while still trying to reign in her anger. Behind her, Poppy’s footsteps sounded. “Thank you, Mr. Potter,” she glanced at the bed beside his. “Mr. Longbottom, you showed selflessness and bravery. For protecting your friend, I award thirty points to Gryffindor.”

He seemed to squeeze Hermione’s hand, and she leaned down to whisper to him. After a few seconds, she looked back up. “He says thank you, Professor.”

“Minerva,” Poppy looked angrier than she had ever seen her. “I need to speak with you in my office, please.” She swept her gaze across the teens. “You all need to eat something, but I don’t mind you visiting with your friends. Just keep them from talking too much.” The last she directed at Hermione.

“Can Neville have anything?” she asked in reply. 

“Nothing solid and nothing hot,” she gave him a regretful look that he was unable to appreciate. “But something soft or a thick cool soup would be alright.”

She nodded briskly. As the older women walked to the privacy of the mediwitch’s office, they heard, “Neville, would you be willing to try Bulgarian yoghurt? Or perhaps a gazpacho?”

She marvelled at the teens for moment, before she closed the door behind her and sat across from her friend.

* * *

Poppy knew she looked angry, but what she had found in her files meant her anger was somewhat self directed. In a fidget, she straightened the large stack of parchments on her desk. She drew a deep breath and met her deputy headmistress’s eyes.

“Something needs to be done about the way Professor Snape manages his classroom,” she said bluntly. 

“Do you mean his apparent willingness to have two injured students take themselves to the hospital wing?” Minerva bit off her words in anger as she said them.

“I mean the fact that so many of his students come to the hospital wing in the first place,” she told her flatly. With one hand, she indicated a small stack of parchments that were barely a chocolate frog high. “That is every incident report that was ever filed for an injury during Professor Slughorn’s class.” She pulled a somewhat taller stack over next to it. “This is every incident report for injuries during Professor Snape’s class.”

She eyed them both, “I suppose that Severus has a few more incidents by that measure.” She felt disappointed by the underwhelming difference. “It would hardly be a large enough difference to impress upon Albus that there is a problem.”

“Not a large enough,” she sputtered a moment. “Minerva, Horace Slughorn taught here for fifty years. Severus has not even taught here for fifteen!”

She shook her head as though to clear it. “Can you give me the incidents per year?”

Poppy waved her wand, and the stacks collated, “This is organized by year for each of them.” The mediwitch acknowledged the difference that presenting her concern this way would make. “I will not have my students constantly put in such horrible danger. Had Mr. Potter and Miss Greengrass not gotten Mr. Longbottom here so quickly, he might have lost some eyesight. Magic does have limitations, as you well know.”

Minerva stared thoughtfully at the incident reports, “How did you come to realize this issue existed?”

“I fill out an incident report for each visit, as per policy” she pursed her lips and deliberately calmed herself. “When I went to file the report for Mr. Longbottom, I realized that half of his visits have been for potions related injuries.”

Her friend’s eyebrows shot skyward. “That is particularly surprising for a Gryffindor. Especially one that is clumsier than usual.”

She quirked a smile, “I quite agree. That is what made me decide to review the records.” Somehow, just having her worries recognized made her feel better. “For either Potions Master, the lasting injuries total three, but many of the others could have been much worse.”

“Three lasting injuries in fifty years versus fifteen… that is troubling,” Minerva was agitated enough that her accent broke through. She seemed to think for a moment then sat forward. “How many of the incidents had the professor escort the student to hospital?”

She frowned in confusion, “I always wondered why that was on the incident form, but…” She trailed off as she waved her wand, and the stacks reordered themselves. For Slughorn, there were only five where he had another student take them for treatment. Snape’s stack had fewer than that where he had actually escorted them.

Minerva must have seen the question in her eyes, “It’s in every professor’s contract. We are required to follow a set code of conduct when a student is injured.” She pressed her lips together so tightly they disappeared. “I may not be able to check him on his methods of heading up his house, but he is plainly endangering his students and in breech of contract. With this, we can see him put on probation.”

Poppy startled at the idea of such severe consequences, “That’s not why I brought this to you. He’s a talented potions master. I just want him to consider his student’s safety.”

“He won’t be fired over this, Poppy,” she reassured her. “You’ve simply given me the leverage I need to bring him into line.” She leaned forward and asked, “Would you go over the lasting incidents with lasting injuries with me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Wednesday, another update. I've got the next five chapters written. Hopefully, I'll be able to wake my creativity up so I can get chapter 22 complete.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More secrets unravel.

The tea cooled, abandoned on the table, as Cyrus enthusiastically debated with Augusta. They had agreed on the problem and solution, but they could not agree on the implementation. “Allowing the Wizengamot to pass legislation that updates the Hogwarts charter will set a dangerous precedent,” Madame Longbottom argued, leaning forward.

“That precedent has been set,” Cyrus countered. “The 1916 stalemate within the Board of Governors was settled by the Wizengamot. Rather than select one of the two candidates, they created a defined path of succession when members died suddenly and defined a mechanism wherein ties would be broken by granting temporary voting rights to the Minister of Magic.”

“I am aware of that. However, the Board of Governors has not had a succession crisis since then, and what we are proposing has nothing to do with seats on the Board,” she retorted.

“Agreed,” he nodded, reaching for his briefcase. “However, the update to the charter did not limit the minister’s authority to filling empty seats.” He found the relevant parchment and passed it to her. “With this authority, our efforts could be undone with only six votes and Fudge acting to break the tie.” He leaned in to press his point. “And the people would be none the wiser.”

Suddenly, her eyes widened, and he knew she understood. “You want the public scrutiny of the Wizengamot legislation. Why?”

He grinned broadly, “The shortcomings of Hogwarts teaching staff have been aired in the public forum. If we’re seen correcting it in the same place it will be much more difficult to undo.”

“The Board of Governors should have the authority to approve staff,” she stated obstinately.

“They still will,” he assured her. “And by doing this publicly and with the right motivations, we’ll undermine any other attempts to circumvent the Board’s authority.”

To his relief, she nodded. With a swish of her wand, the tea warmed back to a drinkable temperature. “All right, Cyrus,” she sipped her drink. “I concede your point. Now, what do you think our next step should be.”

He grinned at her, happy to have her agreement. “I think that you and I should outline the base criteria that we wish to see. If I work with several of the other traditional families, we can draft something that will be quickly passed. We’ll just need to get the Chief Wizard’s support to be on the next agenda.”

“You leave Albus to me,” she told him simply. “We’ll be on the agenda for the session after Beltane. I’ll make sure of it.”

* * *

Her cousin blushed and tucked her hand into Ernie McMillan’s elbow. Daphne winked at her teasingly and shooed Lavender off to walk with her suitor. She longed for quiet time alone with her girl and impulsively set off to find her. _I’ve not seen her, Ron or Harry since breakfast,_ she thought. _I can’t imagine her dragging the boys to library with any success._

She hurried to Hermione’s study room, but the space was empty. She saw no clues to her sweet one’s whereabouts and thought about summoning one of their house elf friends. _Best not do it today. They have both been so busy lately; I might draw unwanted attention to us._

After a moment of quiet, she made up her mind to check at Hagrid’s. _It’s a lovely day, after all. I’ll enjoy the walk even if they aren’t there._ She used the mirror to pull her hair back and gratefully borrowed a scarf that Hermione had left behind. Once she was ready for the windy day outside, she moved quickly, only slowing to lock the door.

Halfway to Hagrid’s, she spied three distinctive heads of hair. Oddly, they did not seem to be heading for the cottage. They were walking toward the Hogsmeade side of the forest. Now, she was curious, and she lengthened her stride to try and catch up.

 _They don’t seem to be in any particular rush,_ she thought as she saw them double back along the path skirting the forest edge. She tried to catch Hermione’s gaze with a half wave but decided they were too far ahead. _Maybe if I catch up with them, I can pull Hermione away, and the boys can go flying._ Feeling generous, she even decided to loan Ron her broom if he wanted. 

She wished she had it with her as they got further ahead again. “Bloody hell, how can those three be so elusive?!” She glanced around, but there was no one near to hear her cursing to herself.

Once she was out of sight of the students enjoying their day by the lake, she broke into a light jog. _This is hardly dignified, Daphne!_ She laughed breathlessly at herself. When her heavy robes and lack of conditioning forced her to slow, she cursed again.

 _I would have thought that having so many people know about us would make it easier to sneak away! Somehow, I’ve been reduced to running across the grounds like a madwoman._ She frowned at the sight of Harry leading them all into the shadows of the forest. 

Suddenly, she suspected that something other than a friendly outing was afoot. The caution in their body language worried her. Rather than leave them to it, she disillusioned herself and cut the shortest path she could to reach the forest edge. At the treeline, she shivered.

She cast a silencing spell at her feet and walked carefully toward where she saw her sweet girl last. Through the trees, she heard voices. Oddly, there were four of them rather than three. She held her wand at the ready as she moved toward them.

She stood behind a large tree for a moment to get her bearings. “Look, this really isn’t necessary!” Ron wheedled. “What are you going to do anyway?”

“Sirius,” Harry said quietly. At the sound of that name, rushing blood drowned out his voice. She gripped her wand firmly and glanced around the tree. She could see the murderer across a small clearing. Hermione, Harry and Ron faced him. Something about their posture was off, but she paid that little mind. 

Instead, she pulled on all her courage and stepped into the open. “Expelliarmus!” she cast the disarming charm and moved quickly away. If he followed her spellfire, he could find her despite her disillusionment charm. From another angle, she cast again but did not wait to catch a wand. 

Harry, Hermione and Ron were moving in all directions. They made it impossible for her to protect them. She kept on attacking, expecting that they would either draw or run. Instead, she heard a voice behind her.

“Expelliarmus!” came a deep voice and her wand went flying. In the shock, her disillusionment charm fell, and she knelt on the cold ground trying to catch her breath.

“Daphne!” Hermione rushed to her side. She looked to Harry and worried at how unfrightened he seemed. 

She carefully got to her feet. From behind her, Professor Lupin approached and offered her her wand. “Miss Greengrass,” he said gently. “That was a well done disillusionment, but you might remember that werewolves have a heightened sense of smell. Before you go sneaking around again, I need to show you how to mask your scent.”

His offer, paired with everyone else’s calmness, confused her into silence. When she turned around and saw Sirius Black, less gaunt and less mad, but recognizably him, she locked eyes with Harry. “What’s going on?”

He drew his wand and cast a quick cleaning spell on her robes. “Daphne, I’d like you to meet my godfather, Sirius Black.”

“Harry,” she frantically searched his face for signs of Imperious or other compulsions. “Harry, you know this isn’t right. I’m not sure what he did to you, but I know that you can fight it.”

“Wait a minute,” Ron broke into her rambling. “Do you mean to tell me that you came bursting in like that, attacking a man that you believe to be a murderer? One that may have had us all entranced to do his will?” He sounded incredulous for a moment, and then he grinned. “I think the sorting hat messed up with you! That was a Gryffindor play, through and through!”

Somehow, his teasing broke through her stupor when nothing else would. “Believe to be a murderer?” She looked to Harry again, “I think I need an explanation.”

Sirius, silent up to this point, burst out with laughter. “Oh, Harry! I like her!” He grinned at her. “Come along now. There’s a much better place to talk through here.”

She kept a grip on her wand and tried to keep Black in her sights. To her surprise, Professor Lupin fell into step beside her. “That was a brave thing you did, but I hope you had more of plan than, ‘charge in and disarm an apparent mass murderer’?”

From the head of their trail, Black called back, “Falsely accused!”

Her former professor rolled his eyes. “Yes, Sirius, we know,” he replied. He addressed her again as they continued following some apparent path that she could not see. “Daphne, Peter Pettigrew killed those people and framed Sirius.”

She stiffened at this mad explanation. “That’s an interesting thing to say about a dead man.”

“He isn’t dead,” Hermione told her, turning to look over her shoulder. “I saw him alive with my own eyes last year.”

From anyone else, she would have dismissed that statement immediately. “Hermione, how could he have escaped? Surely, someone would have seen him in all those years…”

“Lots of people saw him,” Ron said, oddly keeping his eyes on his feet. “They just didn’t realize they saw him.” He sighed, “He was hiding in my own house in his animagus form. We treated him like a pet,” he spit that last word with loathing.

She gasped out loud. “What was his form?” she whispered.

“A rat!” Black laughed bitterly, “It’s as though magic itself tried to bloody warn us not to trust him.”

Hermione turned again and searched her face. She shook her head and tried to decide what to think. _It’s obvious that Hermione and Harry believe this, and surely if Black were going to kill them he would have had plenty of chance. It’s just mad and terrifying to think that the Ministry could get something so wrong!_

Despite her former professor walking in step with her, she felt alone. They moved along in silence as she remembered the cold and dread of last year. She shuddered instinctively at the memory of the dementors. Professor Lupin shrugged out of his coat.

“That’s not necessary,” she assured him before he could offer it. “But, I do appreciate it.” He seemed to internalize the rejection but said nothing as he put the coat back on.

Feeling irrationally guilty, she explained, “I was just remembering the dementors. I thought it was awful at the time and hated having them here. Now you say that it was useless as well…” She stared ahead at Harry walking beside his godfather. “He could have been killed. So many of us could have been killed.”

Lupin patted her shoulder briefly. He held his tongue and offered no platitudes. His calm nature soothed her as they walked. “I’ve missed having you teach this year,” she told him simply. He looked over at her with surprise. “Moody’s knowledgeable, which is a vast improvement over Lockhart.” Ron sniffed out a laugh and elbowed Hermione. She ignored them. “But you managed to teach us without the manic intensity.”

He smiled at her warmly. “I’ve missed you, too. All of you.” To her surprise, they came to the treeline, and she could see the sun winking at them up ahead. “Almost there,” he told her. “We’ve got a cozy little spot chosen for a picnic. I promise we’ll tell you the whole story.”

* * *

On another day, Harry might have resented so many guests on a rare day with his godfather. Instead, he worried over Daphne’s reaction to their revelations. He knew that Remus would obliviate her rather than risk Sirius’s safety. _I don’t know that I could look her in the eye after. It was hard enough after Valentine’s day._

As they took a diagonal path through the edge of the forest, he listened to the murmurs of conversation between Daphne and Remus. He felt sick as he hoped that they could convince her of the need to keep their secrets. Sirius caught his eye and wiggled his brows suggestively. He shook his head in frustration and held his tongue.

The shadows of the forest started to lighten. In the quiet, he could hear waves breaking against the cliffs nearby. He cut his eyes sideways and chuckled under his breath at his godfather’s mischievous expression. The man looked back at him with a wide grin. He rolled his eyes and walked toward the edge of the forest.

Sirius stepped ahead of him with his wand drawn. He tensed at the move, afraid for the man’s safety. He hissed at him, “You should let Remus go first! If we’re caught-”

He cursed the man’s impulsivity as his godfather rushed ahead of them. He grinned maniacally from the clearing. “Welcome! To the Marauder’s Byplace!” Despite the silly name, Harry admired the sunny clearing that was cradled between cliff-face, the sea, and The Forbidden Forest. 

Before them, the cliff faces provided shelter from the chilly Scottish wind. The forest managed to look beautiful rather than foreboding, and the sea surged with power and majesty. Hermione and Ron stepped past them to form a sort of welcoming committee with a path that ended in a humble little picnic.

He sent Daphne a sheepish smile and offered her his arm. He tried to catch her eye in hopes of understanding her thoughts, but she stared past him at the gulls nesting in the cliff face. He caught her hand and placed it on his forearm, where it belonged. Carefully, he walked them both to the patchwork blanket on the ground.

“Have a seat! Get comfy!” Sirius was obviously excited about playing host. “Ron, we brought some of Dufftown’s finest pastries. Not to suggest that they’ll compete with Molly’s brilliant cooking, but they are very good.”

His first friend settled in, “I guess I never thought of you and Mum being friends.”

“Oh,” he expounded happily. “I don’t know about friends, but Molly was the big sister of the Order. Kept us all very well fed, she did!”

“The Order?” Daphne stepped forward, pulling them both into the conversation. “What’s the Order?”

“The Order of the Phoenix,” Remus spoke up. “It was a private organization that worked against the Death Eaters”

“Why haven’t I heard of them?” she asked. To Harry’s relief, she sounded curious rather than combative. 

He responded much as he would have as a professor. First, he smiled proudly, then he leaned back, this time against a low boulder rather than his desk. “The Order was a tightly guarded secret at the time. We functioned outside of the ministry and could easily have been declared a vigilante group.”

Hermione widened her eyes, “Do you mean that the Ministry of Magic wasn’t leading the fight?”

“They were fighting,” Sirius asserted. “Most of the Order members were actually part of the DMLE as well. I was a Hit Wizard after I finished Hogwarts.” He locked eyes with Harry. “Your dad was planning to join as well, but his mum and dad were in poor health after a particularly bad bout of Dragon Pox. The Auror program gave him a way to fight and still fulfill his responsibilities.”

He reached forward and poured himself some water. “If you were all in the DMLE, why did you need some Order? Seems like it would have been easier to strategize if everyone was working together.”

At the looks Sirius and Remus sent him, he suddenly felt very naive. Remus picked up the narrative, “It’s a little hard to explain how dark things really felt, but… at that point in the war, the Ministry was full of Death Eaters and even the normal departments like Apparition Licensing were tearing themselves apart with distrust. The Order provided a place for people like your dad and others to take action without having to watch for a curse in the back from their own side.” He sighed a little. “It also gave a place in the fight to those that the DMLE wouldn’t hire.”

“Like werewolves?” Daphne asked gently.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Like werewolves, and squibs and muggleborns… The Order was supposed to be a way that we could all work together and fight to save our society.” His face darkened. “It was supposed to be…”

Sirius reached out and patted his friend’s back. “At first, the Order was successful. We were able to stop a few attacks, save some innocents, and turn over some key Death Eaters for trial. The Marauders joined up right out of Hogwarts along with Lily, Frank and Alice.” He laughed bitterly. “We were stupid enough to think that we could save the world and end the war. Instead, the tide started to turn against us.”

“Ron,” Remus said, “Pass us around the butterbeers in that basket, would you? I think we could all use something a little brighter for this next part of the story.” Despite his curiosity, Harry was grateful for the break. He took a cold bottle from his friend and moved to draw his wand to open it. 

“Wait a moment, Harry,” Remus stopped him. He drew an intricate circle in the air with his own wand. A rippling purple bubble appeared and separated the blanket. “Scoot over so that you’re completely inside the ward line.”

“This place is out of the wards?” Hermione sounded slightly horrified. He chuckled a little at her reaction and moved over to his right. He went back to removing the butterbeer caps and passed one bottle to Daphne.

“Only somewhat,” Remus assured her. “The under-aged magical exception ward extends into Hogmeade and overlaps the original Hogwarts wards. While this place was overlooked in that later addition, it has always been part of Hogwarts security wards.”

They sipped their cold drinks in quiet for a few moments before Ron spoke up. “You said my Mum was in the Order?”

Sirius nodded, “Not really in it, your brothers were so young… but she certainly looked after us. Now, your dad and both your uncles…” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “I admired the devil out of Fabian and Gideon. I learned a few dirty dueling tricks that saved my life more than once from those two.”

At first, Harry thought he was going to stop his story. Instead, he sat down his drink and looked Daphne straight in the eye. “Back in those days, I was as brash and rash as any teenager you’ve ever met. But I had one true fear.” He leaned forward. “I was afraid… maybe even terrified… that one day I would meet my little brother on the opposite side of a battle.” He looked from him to Hermione, apologetically. “An only child can’t understand what it really means to share parents and a home with someone else. Even if you don’t get on, or worse… even if you hate what the other person stands for… there’s still a bond.”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself Sirius,” Remus gently stopped him. He turned back to them. “We started focusing some efforts on gathering intelligence. Some things we’d pass on to the DMLE, other things we’d move on ourselves. Slowly, we started seeing more mayhem from magical creatures that the Ministry had long sidelined. 

A group of mountain trolls started attacking small human settlements. They’d destroy fields and greenhouses. They devoured entire herds of sheep and goats. When the Ministry found out about it, they tried sending in a team from Magical Creatures. Every witch and wizard was killed.” Hermione gasped and clutched at Daphne’s hand. She plainly remembered what it was like to the be on the receiving end of a mountain troll’s rage.

“After that, things moved quickly,” Remus said darkly. “The Ministry played right into the enemy’s hand and started pushing through anti-creature policies that tried to force relocation of whole tribes of giants and trolls. All it took was assurances from Him and his followers that they would be treated better as his allies, and they turned on neighbors they had ignored for decades.”

“You said anti-creature policies,” Hermione broke in. “It wasn’t legislation?”

He shook his head, “The chief wizard died in his sleep. Some said it was natural, but there were whispers he’d been assassinated. His named and approved successor disappeared from Diagon Alley in broad daylight, and the Wizengamot descended into chaos.”

She frowned in confusion and drew in for another question, but Daphne stopped her. “I’ll explain later, love. If we get into paths of succession and succession crises, we’ll miss curfew and still not be done with this story.” Harry relaxed inside at her quiet humor. Somehow, he knew that she would keep their secret, and he realized that he would no longer be stuck in a maze of lies. 

The men looked at the girl’s clasped hands and locked eyes in some silent communication. Ron broke the tension of the story and the silence with a chortle. “Just go ahead and ask, if you’re going to ask!”

“Honestly, Ronald!” Hermione sounded exasperated. She turned to face Remus and Sirius. “Daphne and I are together. Harry has been covering for us so that the blood purists don’t declare me some sort of potioning harlot.”

To his shock, Remus let out a triumphant shout, “Hah! I told you, Sirius! I told you something odd was going on, but you insisted I was imagining things!”

His godfather hunched his shoulder and groused, “Hush it, Remus. No one likes you when you’re right.” Despite his harsh words, he had the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Harry leaned back on his elbows and grinned in happiness. He knew that their afternoon would finish with the rest of a dark tale, but he felt like he could handle anything in that moment. _Finally, the world is looking brighter._

* * *

Shredded copies of the Daily Prophet lined the far corner of the dingy trunk apartment that Rita stood in. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of old man and despair. “Winky!” she barked out. The miserable little elf appeared in front of her. “Get this revolting mess cleaned up before Barty comes back! And I need a vial of acromantula venom from the potion stores.”

Her ears lay back flat against her head as she stared at her feet. “Yes, Miss Rita.” She snapped her fingers and the trash disappeared. After that, she freshened the air and replaced Moody’s clothes. The last of the mess and stink vanished just as she faded away. Within moments, the requested vial appeared on the side table. 

The light from the office cast odd shadows as Barty descended the ladder to join her. “You’re back!” he sounded delighted to see her. 

“Hello, Barty,” she smiled at him warmly. “How was your day? Students not too much trouble?”

He chuckled at her joke. “They’re never too much trouble on a Sunday. How was your trip?”

The warmth she felt from his welcome faded at the memories he sparked. “The Aurors desecrated my little house, Barty. My manuscripts and research were gone! They even dug up my little flower garden,” she ended her rant when he draped an arm around her shoulders.

“They’re bottom feeders, and they don’t appreciate you,” he told her. “I’m only grateful you didn’t get caught.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I worried while you were gone. I know that you’re brilliant, but you’ve not been trained to defend yourself against those fiends.”

She missed his embrace when he turned to face her, but she tried to reassure him. “I’m a wily one, my friend. I could manage.”

“Only manage?” He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “With the right strategy and some practice, you could more than manage. My sweet friend, with practice, you could triumph.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost missed update for the first time. I was expecting to be off for a four day weekend. Thanks to Hurricane Laura, I've been working until 8pm each night instead. :-( Hopefully, I'll be able to get some time and mental energy to finish up the last two chapters of part 2. For right now, I'm just grateful that I had built a backlog of chapters.


	18. Chapter 18

“Expelliarmus!” Neville cried with power. Instead of Ron’s wand going flying when the spell struck home, he merely fumbled it. 

“Blimey, Nev,” he responded. “I don’t get it. I could practically feel the magic you pulled for that spell, but it still didn’t work right. It reminds me of all the trouble I had when I was using Charlie’s old wand.”

Neville frowned at that, “Charlie? Your brother the Dragon Handler?”

“Yeah, the dragon preserve has all their wands special made.” he blushed and shrugged. “Mum didn’t like the idea of wasting a perfectly good wand so she had me use it. I had no end of trouble with it.”

As Harry walked over to join them, a memory nagged at him from just before he started Hogwarts. “My Aunt Enid argued with my Gran about this wand. It was my dad’s, and Aunt Enid wanted to take me to get a new one.” 

“I wondered about that, Nev,” Harry told him. “Mr. Ollivander told me that the wand chooses the wizard.” He chuckled, “Took me forever to get a wand to choose me.” His humor faded into concern. “I guess I don’t know enough about wands to know how passing one along would work?”

He only nodded at that. “I dunno, but at least my aim is pretty good, right Ron?”

His roommate laughed at the jab, “Too right! I guess I should count myself lucky your wand’s not a good match, or you’d have ended up owning mine too!”

He faked a laugh as they all headed to lunch, but, hours later, their words were still ringing in his ears. He sat before the common room fire and stared as the flames licked and flicked in the breeze from the floo. “Waiting for a call?” Harry asked as he sat down with him. 

“Not really,” he muttered. His friend watched him quietly for a moment before he shifted his weight like he would leave. “Don’t!” he stopped him. “Don’t go, I, uh… I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, Nev,” he smiled encouragingly. “You want to find someplace private to chat or just talk here?”

He glanced meaningfully at the stairs to the boys dorm. Their dorm mates were rowdily arguing over quidditch, dinner and girls. “Privacy would be nice, but I’m not sure that we’ll get it upstairs either.”

“I’ve got a neat one for you,” he leaned forward to let him in on his secret. “Viktor showed me a privacy spell even better than that chain Fred and George use.” He looked around at the crowded common room. “I’ll show you how to do it later?” At his relieved nod, Harry cast a deceptively simple spell and the ambient noise dulled. 

“Thanks, Harry,” he pulled his knees into his chest. “I, uh…” he trailed off and gathered his bravery. “You’ve been a really good friend to me, and I could use your help with something.” Before the other boy could agree, he forged ahead. “It’s not just the favor that makes me nervous. It’s that if you say yes, you’ll find out something I’ve kept from you. Something I’ve kept from everybody, but, well, but it’s something you have a right to know.”

Instead of being frustrated at his rambling non-explanation, Harry just nodded. “I understand about secrets, I promise.” He smiled a little at him. “Sometimes you get so used to keeping them, that you don’t even notice when it’s time to fess up.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s what happened to me…” He heard his voice fade away and got impatient with himself. “Well, I guess the real question now is, which do you want to talk first; the favor or the secret?” He tensed with dread as he waited for Harry’s answer.

“How about we start with the favor?” he clasped his shoulder, and Neville relaxed for the first time since his friend sat down. “We’ll get to the secret when you’re ready. I trust you, Neville.”

“People keep saying that Mr. Olivander told them ‘The wand chooses the wizard.’” He started there and hoped. When Harry nodded, he kept on. “Could you tell me what it felt like? WIth the one that didn’t choose you and the one that did?”

He closed his eyes in thought for a moment, “There’s more than one answer to that question.” He opened his eyes and laughed a little. “I went through a lot of wands before one chose me. Some of them felt just like a stick I picked up on the ground. Some of them seemed… reluctant. Like I feel for an early morning quidditch practice!”

Neville laughed with him at the analogy, but the description resonated with him. He tilted his head, and Harry took the signal to continue. “The others felt like they would do anything to get me to put them down. I actually did a bit of damage to shop, but Mr. Olivander wasn’t mad.” He pulled out his wand. “When I held this one, it felt… right. Like it wanted to help me and knew exactly how…” He blushed, “Sorry, that probably sounds stupid.”

“No,” he smiled at him. “It sounds wonderful.” He pulled out his own wand. “I’ve always felt like my wand will do what I need if I really need it to, but otherwise it would… rather not.” He held his wand out. “Would you try my wand and see what you feel?”

He grasped the handle and immediately frowned. “I feel like I’m stealing something. That shouldn’t be right?” He stared down in confusion at the wand. “Of all the wands I tried, I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Neville pressed his lips together. “I think I need to talk to Uncle Algie.” He looked over at Harry and held out his hand for his wand. “I’m going to duck down to the owlery before curfew. Can we finish this conversation later?”

“Sure, Nev,” he smiled apparently still a little bewildered. With a shrug, he waved his own wand to drop the privacy spell. The roar of the common room buffeted him after the peace in their little bubble. With a wave, he dashed off. For the first time, he felt like he had a solution for why he struggled. _Maybe, it’s not me afterall._

* * *

While the rest of the school was at lunch, the two colleagues stood silently in the large empty room above the Hall. Albus gave her his patented disappointed look, but Minerva had not been his student for many years. _Anything that impacts the safety of our students must be addressed. I’ve allowed too much sewage to flow beneath our bridge, but it stops here._ She kept her thoughts firm and hoped that she could maintain her resolve at the next conflict.

The members of the Board of Governors filed into the conference room. Most wore somber black robes, but Augusta Longbottom accessorized with her trademark red bag and vulture hat. Malfoy sneered at Albus, and she felt her stomach turn at giving him more ammunition against her mentor. Several other members chatted amiably as they took their seats.

“Madam Longbottom,” Malfoy addressed her cooly. “As you were the one to call this unscheduled meeting, please enlighten us as to why.”

She stood and glared at his attempt at a power play, “You were allowed to rejoin this body, Lucius, but I remain it’s chair. I requested this meeting to address an apparent breech of contract within the Hogwarts staff.” Malfoy stared past Augusta and directly at her, looking smug. “Please call Professor Snape into the room, Minerva.” At that, his smug expression melted from his face.

“Augusta,” Albus started with his trademark persuasive tone. “Surely, we can allow this to be addressed through my office as this is the first time the issue has come up.”

Blake Macmillan leaned back in his chair, “Albus, if you wanted this to be handled through your office, you should have handled it before anything got published in the Prophet.” Severus entered the room as the other governors nodded in agreement. He glowered at them all which did not help his case. 

“Professor Snape,” Augusta pierced him with her gaze. “We’ve asked you here to address instances in which you have failed to meet the requirements in your contract. We began the review over safety concerns. Specifically, the significant number of hospital wing visits from your class as compared to your predecessor and your habit of sending injured students alone to seek treatment.” She gestured to the collated stack of incident reports that Poppy had collected. 

Lucius spoke up instead of him. “Hogwarts, as a school that accepts muggleborns, must be prepared to accept that those children create a hazard due to their inexperience in our world.”

When a few of his cronies nodded in agreement, Minerva suppressed her anger and stepped forward. “The number of muggleborn students admitted into Hogwarts each year has remained relatively constant over the past two-hundred years. The number of non-muggleborn students has decreased steadily over the course of the past eighty years. As such, any comparison between Professor Snape’s safety record and his predecessor’s should actually reflect an increase in safety due to a smaller class size.”

Eyes gravitated to the comparatively smaller stack of Slughorn’s incidents. “Augusta,” Elphias Doge spoke up. “Explain to us what the two stacks truly represent.”

She smiled predatorially. “Before you, you see the two Potions Professors’ career incident reports. Professor Slughorn served this school for fifty years, and that is the entire record of hospital visits from his classroom.” She thumped the taller stack. “Compare that to Professor Snape’s thirteen years, and you can see that he has a significantly higher number of issues controlling his classroom.”

Even Minerva cringed at that statement, _Afterall, how can anyone that has never taught truly understand the challenges of a room full of magic wielding teenagers?_ She tried to hold her impassive demeanor as Augusta continued, “Furthermore, Hogwarts policy states that any classroom incident that results in a Hospital wing visit requires that the injured student be escorted by a responsible party. Can you honestly say that you have followed that policy, Professor?”

“Oh, did you want me to speak?” he asked silkily. “I thought you just brought me here to berate me.” Albus cringed at his sarcasm, but Malfoy and his allies seemed pleased. 

“If you don’t care to defend yourself, then I shall move on to the other findings.” Augusta’s loathing edged into her voice. “Additionally, your contract stipulates that, every year, you are to research and publish at least one additional potions discovery that advances magical society. This would be a matter for discussion if you had published anything at all, but you have published only three times in your career at Hogwarts.”

MacMillan sat up straight, “That provision in your contract is intended to ensure our international reputation. What have you to say for yourself, Mister Snape?”

He scowled at the older man, “I would call your attention to page two, paragraph three of my contract. Within the same passage requiring research and publishing, there is a provision assuring that I would have the instruction assistance of a mastery student in order to ensure that I would have sufficient time to support Hogwarts as a published and respected potions master. This has not occurred.

Additionally, given the lack of instruction assistance and the unwillingness of the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress to allow me to determine my own class schedules, Hogwarts’ breeches of contract have guaranteed that my safety record registers as worse than my predecessor.” She shot Albus a mutinous glare, but he ignored her as he did most of the Board of Governors. 

“That’s quite an accusation, Professor Snape.” MacMillan pierced him with a searching gaze. “But, since you know your contract so well, surely you know that you are obligated to recommend your own apprentice. According to our records, you’ve only elevated one person for the position.”

Albus shuffled his feet awkwardly, “Actually, Severus has brought other candidates to me, but they either did not pass my personal review, or they withdrew their candidacy.”

Lucius glared at Albus, “Tell me, Headmaster, how much time typically passes between Severus bringing you a candidate and you forwarding that candidate to us for offer?”

He squared his shoulders and sent them all a disappointed look, “I think we have all allowed this farce to go on too long. Severus is an excellent Potions Master. After Professor Slughorn’s retirement, we were lucky that he agreed to join our staff.”

“For once, Headmaster,” Malfoy broke in. “For once, you and I agree. However, contracts exist for a reason. Either we grant Professor Snape the apprentice he is entitled to and allow him more autonomy in setting his class schedules; or we should renegotiate his contract entirely.”

Her old mentor tried to catch Severus’s eye, but he was unwilling to be persuaded away from the cliff the Board of Governors had driven them toward. “I proposed an apprentice to the Headmaster a few months ago. At this time, I am unaware of any disqualifying items in her background.” He moved his attention directly to Albus, and Minerva saw the man stiffen his spine. “Headmaster, did your review find anything untoward?”

The rest of the meeting was combative but surprisingly productive. Severus accepted a censure in his record in exchange for assurance that three members of the board would review his potential apprentice. At the start of the next term, the Slytherin/Gryffindor combined classes would be split to ensure that there was less rivalry in Potions. Despite her own reservations about the long term effectiveness of the meeting, Minerva walked away from the stressful day feeling as though she had improved the learning environment for her students.

* * *

Daphne tried to keep from sending lovelorn glances across the table at Hermione. While their direct company knew their secret, the rest of the library was crowded. She forced herself to focus on the last lines of her essay. “It’s a pity that Binn’s doesn’t cover the interesting parts of history,” she grumbled quietly. “There’s more to our past than goblin rebellions.”

Tracey nodded, “Even that shouldn’t be as boring as he makes it. Honestly, goblins and humans warring against each other? The story is practically cinematic!” She glanced around the table for confirmation and found none. “Really? Harry? Hermione?”

Ron looked around Hermione to ask, “What’s a cinematic?”

Tracey dramatically dropped her head into her hands. When she looked up, she incredulously stated, “Your two best friends are muggle born and muggle raised, but they’ve never taken you to see a movie?”

Hermione frowned in consternation, “We’ve not really had the chance. Summer holidays have been rather hectic since I started Hogwarts, and my parents want to spend as much time with me as they can. The only time we’ve all seen each other before start of school was when the Weasley’s invited us all the to the Quidditch Cup.”

Picking up her explanation, Harry shrugged, “I’ve never really been to the cinema, myself. My uncle says the tickets are too expensive.” Daphne heard Ron mutter something the cost of putting bars on windows before she felt his friend kick out at him under the table. She sent a wide eyed look to Hermione, but she shook her head in confusion. 

Her best friend continued on her rant, oblivious to the byplay down the table. “We will have to correct this. I’ll write my muggle cousin to find out what movies will be out over summer holiday, and we’ll all pick one to see.”

“That sounds like fun,” she replied sincerely. “And I like the idea of us all getting to visit over the summer as well.” She was glad for the excuse to make plans and see her girl over break. The idea of going weeks without her sounded awful and lonely.

Her faux beau slid his parchment across the table. “Hermione, I don’t think I wrote this down right. Would you take a look please?”

She had barely accepted it when Madam Pince marched over to them. She loomed over their table until they all looked up. “There are a number of students that could make better use of this table. If all you intend to do is chat, please do so elsewhere.”

By silent consensus, the five chastised students gathered their belongings and left. In the hall, Daphne tucked her hand into Harry’s elbow and suggested, “How about we head to the study room?”

She relaxed as soon as they were out of sight of the other students. Somehow, she never noticed how tense pretending made her. “Such a pity that it’s too windy to go flying,” she remarked as they all settled their belongings on hooks. 

She set the privacy charms on the door, and Ron eyed their practice space. “Anyone want to duel?”

In a move that made her want to hug him, Harry suggested, “Actually, I thought Tracey might like to explore some of the secret passages.” He looked to her friend, “What do you think? Want to see how the Weasley twins get away with so many of their pranks?”

It was an obvious ploy to give her and Hermione time alone, but Tracey seemed excited anyway. “I would love to! Do I need any of my things?”

Ron smiled and shook his head, “Just be armed with your best cleaning charms. Some of the passages get pretty dusty!”

He started to tell her about some of his favorite passages, and Harry winked at Hermione. She rolled her eyes and picked up a ratty piece of parchment from her book shelf. “Do try and keep out of trouble, please?” she requested as she passed it to him.

Ron grinned mischievously, “Tracey will help with that, won’t you?” 

She laughed and shook her head vigorously, “If Hermione can’t keep you two out of trouble, what chance do I have?”

He continued to tease her, “Oh? Is it too ambitious a task for you? I think it just needs a bit of cunning, don’t you, Harry?”

He rolled his green eyes but laughed good-naturedly, “We’ve not even left yet, and you’re trying to get me into trouble.” He stepped into Daphne’s space and pecked a kiss to her cheek just as he would in public. “We’ll set a privacy charm on our way out and warn you before we barge in.”

Tracey started toward the door, but he stopped her. “How about we go out the back way?” With a flourish, the boys escorted her out through the secret passage on the far side of the room. Her laughter echoed behind her until the privacy charm cut off the sound.

Daphne turned to find Hermione staring quizzically at her. She glanced down at herself in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just not used to seeing Harry be affectionate with people,” she shrugged it off with a slight smile. “Anyway, I have a surprise for you!” She skipped over to the far corner of the room and tugged at a black cover. 

She gasped with the delight as the machine came into view, “Is that a gramophone?”

Hermione grinned and nodded, “My mum found it among my great aunt’s things. Since it’s a wind up style, it should work just fine.” Her eyes shined beautifully as she levitated a box over to rest next to it. “They sent loads of music as well! We could dance for days and never hear the same song twice.”

She barely felt her feet move but knew they must have as she suddenly stood before her happy love. The shorter girl held out a hand toward the player, but, before she could say anything more, Daphne pulled her into her arms and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was a while before either of them gave music another thought.

* * *

The cafe across from the Ministry of Magic was popular with Wizengamot members even when the body was not in session. From the outside, it appeared to be an ordinary event hall, but the back entrance opened up to Diagon Alley. Narcissa did not know the history of that bit of magic, but she often found it convenient.

Her chosen table allowed her to see and be seen among the influential members of their society. From that vantage point, she spied her second meeting of the day waiting to be escorted over, but she kept her focus on the man across the table. “Rufus, I think any charms master would be pleased with your application based on your NEWTs alone. I know that Theodora Nott has not typically accepted students, but she is an old family friend. If you will allow me to forward your request along with a letter of recommendation, I am certain she will consider you.”

“Madam Malfoy, I am extraordinarily grateful for your time and counsel,” his young eyes shone eagerly. “I’ll gladly accept your generous offer.”

She smiled at him, “Excellent. Owl me your letter of request and test scores by tomorrow. I’ll handle the rest.”

She stood and allowed Cornelius’s nephew to bow over her hand. When she retook her seat, she carefully refreshed her coffee and reviewed her schedule for the day. After a few moments, she subtly signaled to the maitre de that he could bring her next guest. She kept her eyes on her slate even though she had the information memorized. 

At the corner of her eye, a putrid pink skirt appeared and the inelegant woman sat down across her. “Narcissa,” she said in too sweet of a tone. “So good to see you again.”

She graciously ignored the inappropriate familiarity and looked up to greet her. “Good day, Dolores. How are things at the Ministry?”

As expected, the insecure woman eagerly accepted the chance to impress with her influence. “Well enough, Narcissa. I’ve been directing the additional allocation of funding from the Wolfsbane tax as we are still without an official head of the Beast Division of the Control of Magical Creatures.”

“Oh,” she poured the odious woman some coffee. “I thought that Amos Diggory was the choice for that role. He is the senior employee within the department, is he not?”

She simpered and tittered falsely as she added far too much sugar to her cup. “Well, the man has been an employee for quite some time, certainly. However, I feel that we must consider more than years of service for the position.” She pursed her lips and leaned forward as though sharing a secret. “I’ve always found Amos to be too soft for the Beast Division. He has far too much pity for werewolves, and I worry that he would not set stern enough policy.”

“I hear that Cornelius looks to you for these things almost exclusively these days,” she murmured in fake sympathy. “I’m sure it’s a lot of pressure on you given the other responsibilities of your role.”

Her toadish face turned smug, “Well, I appreciate how important it is that he has someone he can rely on. Others might find the work too taxing, but I recognize the need for my personal attention. Especially when it comes to staffing departments with worthy individuals.”

Even as she felt grateful for the woman’s simplicity, she loathed her for the same quality. _Pathetic that it takes only a few questions and compliments to get you talking._ “It is a remarkably crucial role you’ve taken in the Ministry.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Tell me, how long do you think you’ll be content to be the power behind the man? Your ambition clearly has a direction beyond your, already many, accomplishments.”

Dolores eyed her coyly over the rim of her coffee cup. “Now, Narcissa, Cornelius is very popular and has only been in office four years. Don’t you think it a bit early to start considering succession plans?”

Instead of the expected attempt at persuasion, Narcissa faked disappointment. “You don’t want it, do you?” She leaned back and regarded her. “You’re far too ambitious to remain happy where you are, but you are too cunning to unseat an ally like Cornelius.”

She giggled in delight, “Oh, Narcissa, I do like you!” She leaned back in her chair with a conniving smile. “I think there are other interesting opportunities in our world. Why, some of the traditional positions have far more power than the public realizes, or the current seat holder exercises.”

And, with that, she had her answer. _She’s angling to replace Dumbledore. The trumped up little janitor’s daughter fancies herself Chief Witch._ She carefully pretended ignorance. “That is true of several posts.” 

Umbridge nodded in reply but said nothing more. 

Narcissa laughed lightly, “Ah, well, every woman needs her secrets. Whichever position you are striving for, your efforts to keep lycanthropy in check have been very popular. With the tax passed, what do you see as next on your legislative agenda?”

The question pleased her. “Well, I’ve been considering the problem of animagus registration. It’s impossible to enforce as the law is currently written. This scandal with Rita Skeeter has made that readily apparent.”

She nodded thoughtfully, “That is an issue that needs to be addressed. However, I’m sure a woman of your talents is balancing that with other smaller initiatives as well.”

“Balance is the primary quality required in my job, Narcissa.” She sat straight in her seat and was clearly under the mistaken impression that they were equals. It was a delusion that suited her for the moment.

“Then, perhaps, you could review the last Hogwarts audit? I know that your staff would have managed it, but, after everything I’ve read in the Prophet…” She trailed off and shook her head in dismay. 

“I’ve already looked into the cyclical audits,” she assured her. “Unfortunately, they only occur once a decade, and the next is not due to occur for another two years.” She told her this regretfully.

Frowning, Narcissa declared, “That hardly seems frequent enough to be helpful. Why, my son was not even in first year when the last audit was done, and he will be past his OWLs by the time two years is up. I hate to think what impact the irregularities have already had on his education. Is there any other avenue to hold the school accountable?” She knew the answer, but it was best that Umbridge think this was her idea.

A pleased smile spread across her face, “Narcissa, my dear, I can understand how any mother would be concerned after hearing what is going on at Hogwarts. I shall call for an audit of the school records this week. We ought to be able to get a full accounting of the state of Hogwarts by the time your son is home for summer.”

Over her pawn’s shoulder, she saw her next appointment. _Laurel is looking particularly lovely today,_ she thought as she evaluated her lustrous navy robes. At a flick of her hand below the table, a server appeared to clear the coffee tray. She faked a sad smile, “Dolores, I wish that we could talk all morning, but I know that you have a busy day.” She stood and shook the woman’s moist hand. 

“Quite so, Narcissa, but this has been lovely. I hope that we can chat again soon.” She regarded her closely for another moment and seemed inclined to linger. At her subtle signal, the maitre de began escorting Laurel Greengrass over to their table. 

At the sight of the beautiful woman, she simpered and fluttered childishly. “Why, Laurel Greengrass! How delightful to see you! I have quite enjoyed your column on wizarding traditions.”

The newcomer stayed carefully composed, “Thank you. It has been a labor of love.” Belatedly realizing that she was intruding, the woman said her goodbyes and plodded quickly out of the door. 

Narcissa dismissed her as completed business and turned to her girlhood friend. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to see you.” They kissed each other’s cheeks and sat down to enjoy their lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albus Dumbledore started teaching at Hogwarts around 1910. By the time of the books, nearly everyone he met or spoke with was once his student. How would it feel to look around your world and feel like the teacher of everyone you met?


	19. Chapter 19

Saturday morning dawned bright and chilly. Neville shook Harry awake quietly. “We’ve got to get an early start to meet Uncle Algie,” he reminded him in a whisper. 

“Yeah, ok,” his groggy roommate mumbled. He stumbled to his feet much like he had when Wood would call an early practice. “Need anything special or just regular robes?”

Neville thought of some of the little things that Lavender had taught him and suggested, “Maybe that new robe and waistcoat combo that Daphne had you get? I’m not sure what Uncle Algie has planned. He just said that he talked to Aunt Enid and had a good idea of where to start.”

Harry stood and stretched. “D’ya think I’ll-” his yawn cut off his words. When it was over, he started again, “Do you think I’ll get to meet Aunt Enid? She sounds really nice.”

He grinned at the idea of someone wanting to meet his family. “Aunt Enid’s brilliant! She knows some of the most obscure things about magic and tells the best stories.”

They stumbled off to the showers with their clothes and were dressed quickly. In the common room, Harry looked toward Hermione’s normal chair quizzically. “Hmm… Better let Hermione know where we’re going so that she’ll cover for us.” He called for Winky.

She appeared before them, looking drab and tired. “Mister Harry, sir? What’s can Winky do for you?” He shared a worried look with his friend. Their little Gryffindor elf was usually so happy. 

“Winky, I’m sorry to ask this, but Neville and I need to go see his Uncle Algie.” He caught his eye as he said this and seemed to beg him to play along. “It’s important that Hermione know as soon as she wakes up, so would you please sit on her bed and wait for her?”

He buried his smirk at the ploy to get her to rest, “Oh, Winky, please tell us you’ll wait with her so that she’ll know as soon as she wakes up?”

She gave a tired nod, “Yes sirs, Mister Harry and Mister Neville. I’ll waits rights on her bed.” Harry pulled her into a gentle hug, and they said their goodbyes.

On their way to the Hogwarts gate, he asked his friend, “Is Winky alright? I’ve not seen her around as much.”

He frowned back, “I’m not sure. I guess she’s still dealing with Mr. Crouch’s death. She’s been around less and seems less happy when’s she’s with us.” He shrugged tensely, “I need to ask Hermione if there’s more we can do to help. She’s really Winky’s favorite.”

They made quick time to the gate, and Uncle Algie waited for them on the other side. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he greeted them with a smile. “How has your weekend been?”

“We’ve had a good one, Uncle Algie,” Harry replied. “How have you been?”

“Quite good and well,” he assured them. “Now, if you’ll come all the way outside of the Hogwarts wards, I’ll apperate us all off.”

His roommate held him back with gentle hand on his arm. “Just a precaution if you please? How can we be sure that you’re you?”

Rather than be offended, he threw his head back and laughed. “How can anyone be certain of anything?” He looked at them both appraisingly, “I suppose that I should be proud of you for thinking to ask. The simplest way to assure you of my identify would be to tell you something that only we three would know… Perhaps I’ll just remind you about our lessons. While Neville told me a story of a time that he was brave enough to do the right thing, you kept your story to yourself.”

Harry nodded, “Thank you, that works well enough.” The two of them walked across the invisible line that kept them safe. 

Uncle Algie smiled at them. “Good of you to ask, my boys,” he said as though they had both challenged him. “Tricky thing about Hogwarts, you can’t apperate in and out without altering the wards. While you can use a portkey, it only works if created in the Headmaster’s office. Simplest way to come and go is by floo, but there’s limitations on that as well.” As he continued his explanation, he looped his arms through theirs and apperated them away.

In London, they ate breakfast overlooking a small garden, but Neville kept quiet as they finished. When his uncle set his fork down at the end of their meal, he avoided their eyes. _I don’t know why he’s brought us just opposite_ _St. Mungos_ _, but I’ve never told Harry that Mum’s still alive. I hope they’ll forgive me for this._

Before anyone else could speak up, he forced himself to start out. “Harry, I have something I need to tell you. It’s part of that secret I’ve kept… I’ve never told anyone else at school.” His friend smiled encouragingly, but he still felt a little sick to his stomach.

“It’s alright, Nev,” Uncle Algie said. “No one blames you for keeping your hurts private.” He looked deep into Harry’s eyes. “Frank and Alice didn’t die in the attack that sent The Lestranges to Azkaban. They live in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungos.” He dropped his gaze and looked guilty. “We tried to keep them home at first, but it was hard on us to see them relive the weeks before their son’s birth as he grew up in front of their eyes.

Eventually, we found Neville trying to crawl into bed with his mum. She screamed for help and insisted that someone help her find his parents.” To his shock, his great uncle had tears in his eyes. “She couldn’t recognize her own son, and we couldn’t do it anymore, not to him or ourselves.”

“I’m not ashamed of them, Harry,” he broke in as his uncle tried to regain his composure. “I just knew that people would mock them to get at me, and… I couldn’t bear the idea of it.”

Harry covered his hand with his own. “I understand. I can’t handle people mocking my mum and dad either.”

Algie wiped his wet cheeks on his sleeve. “You may think I’m mad for bringing you here, but… Enid thinks that the wand Neville’s inherited is still Frank’s. I know I’ll never convince Augusta without evidence.” He stared at them both, “I hope you’ll forgive me for bringing you along… for testing a theory on family, but we need to know.”

It took an hour for the Janus Thickey Ward healer to agree to let them see Frank away from his normal room. Apparently, separating him from mum, even briefly, required quite a bit of effort. They might still have refused without Harry there. Neville felt bad about using his friend’s celebrity, but Uncle Algie was not so shy. Finally, they were ready to go in.

“Alright, my boys,” the older man nodded bracingly. “We’ll be in in just a moment. It’s important to let me start us out, conversationally.”

“Yes, Uncle Algie,” Harry replied for both of them, but he nodded alongside him. With two steps, they entered a white and potion scented room that felt both like and unlike his parent’s normal room. His dad stood by the window in his normal hospital garb. 

“Hello? Frank, how are you, my boy?” Algie spoke softly, but his dad still startled. Instead of looking his uncle in the eye, he stared beyond him.

“James?” he asked as he advanced on Harry. “You’re looking smart. You mind telling these fools that I’m well enough to go home? I’ve a craving for some good shepherd’s pie!”

His friend blinked twice then lied smoother than he would have guessed he could. “Hello, Frank,” he shook his dad’s hand warmly. “I’ll certainly put in a good word.”

“Auror Longbottom, if you please,” his uncle took on a businesslike tone. “We found a wand on Hogwarts grounds that seems to belong to you. Could you suggest how it might have gotten there?”

“Hogwarts grounds?” he sounded baffled. “I couldn’t say on that count, but it must have been taken from me while I was unconscious. I’ve never been disarmed in a duel.”

“Could you verify that this is, indeed, your wand?” he waved a hand towards him, and Neville offered his wand to his father. 

The frail man took it from him, handle first. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “It is my wand. I’ve always felt a deep connection to this scrap of wood and magic.”

His heart squeezed in his chest, not just at the revelation, but at the sense of who his father truly had been. _I have always hated those bastards for what they stole from me… but now I want to rage for what they stole from my parents._ He blinked back his tears and tried to focus on any cues for what he was to do next.

“Curious thing, it ending up on Hogwarts grounds,” Frank said. “I can’t understand how that would have happened.”

“That’s what we’ll be investigating,” Harry assured him. “Once we know more, we’ll let you know.”

“Neville will need to take the wand with him for examination,” Uncle Algie sounded disappointed. “We’ll make sure it’s returned to you promptly.”

As instructed, he reached out for the wand still gripped tightly in his father’s hand. Unable to make himself yank it away, he covered the man’s hand with his own. For just a moment, his father’s eyes focused on him. “Neville?” he rasped out. Standing there, as they both held the wand, he felt seen in a way he never knew before. His heart slammed in his chest, and his eyes burned with dry emotion.

Just as suddenly, the moment passed. Frank Longbottom faded into the past again as he said, “My son’s name is going to be Neville.”

He forced a smile. “Neville is a good name. I’ve quite enjoyed having it,” he could barely speak above a whisper. He cleared the grief from his throat and tried again. “I hope your son will like it as well.”

Instead of replying, his father’s grip went lax. Without him there, the wand would have dropped to the ground. He held it for a moment, wondering if it felt different or if he did. When Uncle Algie cleared his throat, he answered the unspoken question. “I’ll be back in a few weeks, Dad. See you then.” His father’s vacant stare was his only reply.

In the hall, Neville marveled at his wand for a moment. “I don’t understand, but I think it accepted me while I was in there.” He looked at his uncle and his friend. “Is that crazy?”

“Wands transfer loyalty for a lot of reasons, Neville,” Uncle Algie still spoke gently. “Perhaps this one just needed to really know that your father accepted it, or that you both did.” He squeezed his shoulder in affection. When he slid his wand up his sleeve, his uncle asked, “Feel up to going to see your mum?”

He nodded, “Yeah.” He met Harry’s eyes, “Alright with you?”

His friend’s eyes looked wet, but he supposed his were as well. Rather than acknowledge it, he only said, “Yeah, come introduce me to my god-mum.” They stood there for a moment longer then stepped forward together.

* * *

Most traditional Hogsmeade magicals went to Edinburgh for Beltane, but this year Laurel Greengrass had worked with Hagrid and Mr. Aberforth Dumbledore to set up a proper Beltane bonfire just outside the village. To everyone’s delight, the visitors from Durmstrange and Beauxbaton agreed to join their celebration. By the morning of May 1, the whole town and all three schools were excited for the celebration.

Headmaster Dumbledore had approved a shortened school day and agreed to have the Hogwarts carriages bring students to the village. Madame Rosmerta had even dragged out tables and laid out a feast. The enthusiasm of the townspeople for their own Beltane sparked a hope that this would last beyond the attendance of the Greengrass children at Hogwarts.

The student members of House Greengrass had been let out of class early to help set up. Hermione smiled to herself at the sense of belonging that came from being included in that group. _It was kind of Lavender to include me when she got permission from Professor McGonagall._ She worked with a few townspeople to raise the May Pole, and they all clapped in happiness when it stood in the foreground of the field on the beautiful afternoon. With Hogwarts looming in the backdrop, it looked like a postcard from a bygone era.

“Please tell me we asked Colin to come down early and take photos?” Lavender asked from over her shoulder. She turned to find her staring at the same lovely sight.

She nodded, “Daphne asked him to walk down with Harry, Ron and Neville as soon as they could. I think his mum and dad are coming out from Dufftown with Remus Lupin. I really hope I heard that right!” 

Lavender’s frown had her stiffen at first, but then she said, “It’s a pity that we couldn’t arrange portkeys so that more muggleborn families could come. Helping them see and understand our traditions is part of why Aunt Laurel decided to make our Beltane celebration so public this year.”

She looked around at the bustle and cooperation. “I know my mum and dad plan to come next year. They just didn’t have time to arrange for someone to cover their appointments on short notice.” 

“Next year will be even bigger,” Daphne said as she approached. “We’ll have to do something to make up for the fact that we won’t have the other school’s visiting.”

Hermione pulled her hair back from her face and grinned at the beautiful sight of her girlfriend covered in yellow flower petals. “I think you were supposed to put the May Boughs on the entrances of the High Street shops not dust yourself with them,” she announced with a giggle.

Rather than reply, her girlfriend scraped up handfuls of yellow petals from her robes. When she held them up threateningly, Hermione scampered away with peals of laughter. Daphne gave chase, and the two darted gleefully around tables and towns people. 

She ran as fast as she could while weaving to keep from getting caught. Her great mistake was in looking behind her. “Harry, catch her!” Daphne cried out breathlessly.

Suddenly, her best friend grabbed her around the waist. She kicked, screamed and squirmed, but he held fast. “Harry, I will get you for this! You’ll never - “ She was caught between Harry and Daphne. 

She gasped for breath as her beautiful girl advanced slowly on them. Even though Harry let her go and stepped back, it was too late to run again. She stood, still laughing breathlessly, as her girlfriend tousled and tangled fistfuls of yellow petals into her curls. Her only retribution was to scoop more flower petals up and shove them in Harry’s hair.

“Hey! I have nothing to do - What are you doing?” He stammered protests even as Colin’s camera flashed to immortalize the moment.

Later that night, everyone was grateful for the warmth of the huge bonfire. The traditional blessings and ceremonies had ended by sundown, and all the celebrants were dancing to the lively music on offer from a Dufftown band. To Hermione’s surprise, the power in the simple traditions were made known early in the evening when a young man from town proposed to his girlfriend. 

In the midst of the cheers from the crowd, a bolt of lightning struck and ignited their bonfire for them. Headmaster Dumbledore insisted that magic blessed their union, and he married them on the spot. In honor of the occasion, the proprietors of the Hogshead and Three Broomsticks had brought out barrels of butterbeer and ale. 

“So, are you a Gryffindor or aren’t you?” Fred (or George) heckling Ron was not unusual, but their slurred speech worried Hermione enough that she stopped in the shadows to listen. 

“I’m as much as bloody Gryffindor as anyone!” Ron answered belligerently. 

“So,” the other twin chimed in. “Ask her to bloody dance already!” The two of them shoved him at Tracey so hard that he had to grab her shoulders to keep from falling.

“Sorry about that,” he stared deep into her eyes. “My brothers have snuck too much ale.”

She smiled while she carefully corrected her balance. “No worries, Ron,” she assured him. When she stepped back, he stepped forward with her. 

“Tracey,” he stammered a bit. When she stared up at him, he forced out, “Would you like to dance?”

Hermione wanted to bury her face in her hands. As she feared, her Daphne stepped up behind her. “Is he just going to dance with her or is this another Lavender situation?”

In the dark and smoke of the fire, she dared to slip her arm around her girlfriend’s waist. “I honestly don’t know, but he must like her at least a little if the twins are teasing him.” She sighed and let her head dip into her girlfriend’s shoulder for just a moment.

Before either of them had to worry about separating for discretion’s sake, Harry stepped up behind them. He pressed a kiss to Daphne’s cheek, but they both caught a whiff of ale on his breath. “Harry, have you been drinking?” she asked him worriedly.

“Remus let me try some of his beer,” he admitted. “I didn’t drink much. It’s not nearly as nice a butterbeer or boza.”

She relaxed at that and let their collective warmth chase away the Scottish night air chill. After a few more minutes of lively music, they started swaying together. When Colin stood before them and shouted, “Smile!” Harry grabbed both of their outside hands and twirled them as though they had practiced it.

She grinned happily at the combined sensations of disorienting dizziness and complete safety. “Dance with me!” he grinned with manic glee in a way that reminded her of Sirius.

Before she could step away so that he and Daphne could move to the makeshift dance floor, her girl grabbed her one free hand. Harry kept hold of the other. Away from the crowd, the three of them step-hopped, schottisched, and twirled their way through the last of the celebration. 

In the carriages back to the school, Viktor climbed in with them. The rumble of his voice and Harry’s drifted over her as she let her head droop onto Daphne’s shoulder. Her last thought before she dropped off to the sleep was, _When did Harry’s voice get deeper?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought it odd that the Wizarding world celebrated so many Christian holidays. Maybe my perspective is skewed by memories of the Satanic Panic in the US.


	20. Chapter 20

The Wizengamot chamber echoed with the buzz of many conversations. Augusta paid no mind to the chatter. She tried to focus on her plans with Head Greengrass, but her mind kept detailing the tutoring that Neville would need before he started fifth year. _The fact that he managed as well as he did with an ill matched wand is impressive. He’ll be quite the wizard one day, once we’ve gotten him caught up._ She had nearly cursed Algie when she found what he did, but, with a cooler head, she realized that he had been right to do it.

She caught Cyrus’s eye across the chamber, but neither of them were so indiscrete as to nod to each other. Instead, he turned to speak to Elias Parkinson, and she went back to her observations of the room. They each had a part to play in the upcoming political theatre, and a subtle smile played around her lips as she anticipated the start. 

It took several more minutes for their Chief Wizard to arrive and make his round of greetings. Finally, the doors closed, and silence fell. “I do now call to order the Huath session of the Wizengamot. Chief Wizard Albus Dumbledore, the floor is yours!”

“Thank you, Speaker Gamp,” he nodded to the man as he took his seat. “I hope everyone had a beautiful Beltane celebration last week. We have a busy agenda today with several new orders of business.” He did not smile, but his eyes crinkled in good humor as he suggested, “Let’s see what old business we can settle before we add our new items to our plate.” He nodded to Gamp who stood and brought up the matter of cauldron bottom thickness for the sixth time.

To Augusta’s relief, the debate was minimal, and the new standard finally passed. Five more items of old business were similarly cleared through with surprising efficiency. _I think our pre-session discussions are paying off already._ She smiled at Amelia Bones and received one in return.

She readied for battle as the next item on the agenda was called. “Now reopening debate for the motion to reallocate 15% of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement funding to the Department for Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures.”

Eyes in the room split between Director Bones and Undersecretary Umbridge until Augusta stood to be recognized. “It was my understanding, Madame Umbridge, that this motion would be tabled after the entire revenue from the new lycanthropy tax was dedicated to the Department of Magical Creatures. Is that department truly requesting even more funding?”

The unpleasant woman glared at her for implying mismanagement before she replied, “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is still funded at the same level as during the last wizarding conflict. This is despite the fact that we are safer than we have been in many years.”

“If you believe that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is over-funded, why did you not propose tax relief? Isn’t our responsibility to collect only what we truly need to serve our citizens?” She pivoted her reply to keep the woman off balance and ignored the glare she got from Bones and Shacklebolt. 

“The Department for Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures is in need of the funding.” Umbridge told her firmly. “Reallocation from another department will prevent additional taxes.”

William Nott stood, and Augusta turned a pleased eye toward the noted fiscal hawk. “Madame Undersecretary, the Department of Magical Creatures has requested four funding increases in the past two years. All of which have been approved. My teenage son doesn’t ask for money this often.”

Laughter rippled across the floor of the Wizengamot, and Umbridge’s face turned brighter than the pink she usually favored. MacMillan rose to his feet and addressed her. “Can the Ministry quantify the exact amount of additional money needed to fund the Department of Magical Creatures, Madame Undersecretary? The amount of time we have wasted in this chamber throwing money their direction could be better spent on other items, after all.”

Umbridge sputtered angrily toward the Minister before she declared, “The cost to investigate a single werewolf attack has risen by fifty galleons in the past two years. The funding is necessary to ensure that other initiatives in the Creature Division are not bankrupted by lycans run amok!”

Augusta wanted to roll her eyes as a teenager would, “And how many werewolf attacks did the department investigate this year as compared to the last five years? You gave us the cost of a single attack. How much revenue is going to this overall?”

In a rare moment of solidarity, Nott barked, “Hear, Hear!” When Umbridge scrambled and plainly had no ready response, he followed up. “You tell us that costs have gone up, but I, for one, would like to know why. It would hardly be appropriate to reward them for being inefficient!” Her own call of, “Hear, Hear!” got caught in the chorus of them across the chamber. 

Speaker Gamp made no effort to reign in the raucous members, and Augustine Abbott needed a sonourous to be heard. “Chief Wizard, this body clearly needs more information in order to alter the budgets of any department. I suggest that this and all other budgetary changes be tabled until a commission conducts a thorough audit of the spending and administration of the impacted departments. I would propose that audit be conducted by a group of six hereditary Wizengamot seat holders and two senior members of each department in question.”

Several cries of “Hear, Hear!” sounded out before the Chief Wizard nodded sagely. “A wise and measured approach to our conundrum. Are you willing to make the motion?”

“Consider the motion made,” he replied firmly.

Amelia Bones stood from her seat as Ministry Director of the DMLE, “I second that motion!” She glared at Umbridge. “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has nothing to hide in our books.”

“Motion to table all debate on budget changes to Ministry departments until the results of a commissioned audit are brought for review.” Speaker Gamp scanned the room. “As many as are of that opinion say ‘Aye’”

Shouts of “Aye” resounded from most of the hereditary seats. The charms on the room collected the votes, and he waved for silence. “And of the contrary, ‘No.’” He allowed the smaller group to have their say, but the decision was plain. He waved for silence and declared, “Aye’s have it, and the motion passes.”

She avoided a glance in Umbridge’s direction so that she would not be tempted to gloat. When Albus scanned the agenda, he declared, “That puts us to the end of our old business for today. Let us adjourn for lunch and reconvene at 1:00 PM.”

* * *

Monday’s classes were hectic for all the students, and Harry felt the stress even though he would not sit his exams this year. He scooped up a forkful of green beans while he listened for Hermione to finish answering Ginny’s Arithmancy question. He was halfway though his lunch when she turned back to him, “Sorry, Harry. You said you wanted to talk about the final task over lunch?”

“We’ve had a plan to prepare for all the tasks before this,” he whispered nervously. “I don’t know how to prepare for this one. It’s just a maze. Is there…” He cut off his own rambling. 

“I think there are a few things we can do to prepare you for the task, Harry,” she frowned in thought. “The biggest risk in a maze is getting lost.” She bit her full bottom lip, and he wanted to kick himself for noticing. “I think that we should write to my parents for a compass. We’ll look for a spell for the same purpose, and that should help us address both the magical and non-magical risks of it.” 

He nodded in agreement. Remembering the second task, he asked, “Do you think they could send another dive knife? I lost the other during the task, but it came in handy before then.”

She nodded, “I’ll write them tonight. If you think of anything else that you want for the task, let me know so that they can order it.”

“You should shrink your broom down and put it in your expansion pouch!” Ron exclaimed this too loudly for Harry’s taste, but he acknowledged that he had a good point.

Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and started her checklist. “Compass, dive knife, broom,” she tapped her quill to her chin in thought. “The other two tasks were a combination of getting past creatures, solving riddles and retrieving items. It seems logical that the maze will account for all of those things.”

He frowned, “I think that should make me feel better, but, every other time I’ve had to solve a riddle on the fly, you’ve been with me to…” He blushed a little at the admission, “Well, you were the one that solved it, if I’m honest.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “You’re perfectly capable when I’m not there.” For a moment, he worried that she would leave him to it just to prove her own point. To his relief, she muttered, “Point-me spell, perhaps a decent flame freezing charm… I think we should put a few basic stones in your pouch so that you have simple transfiguration options….” She kept mumbling to herself and jotting down notes. For Harry, it felt reassuring. _Hermione is on the case; she’ll make sure that I’m as prepared as possible._

* * *

By the time their break for lunch was over, Cyrus had agreed to lead the auditing commission and invited a careful selection of traditional and progressive pureblood houses. With one seat left, he approached Nott, “I saved you a seat on the auditing commission if you can make the time.”

The stern man raised an eyebrow at him, “Who else has confirmed?”

“I’ve only worked with the heritage seat holders so far, but Travers, Abbott, Macmillian and Fawley have all agreed. I kept the last seat in hopes you would add your fiscal expertise to our efforts,” he kept his compliment mild but sincere. For all his blood-purist beliefs, the man was a known financial genius.

He tilted his head. “That’s a diverse group,” he admired. “Do you really think you can get us all to work together?”

“Yes, primarily because we’re balanced evenly,” He replied. “Our diverse political views will improve the credibility of the results, and, no matter who the departments give us, we have someone that will seem friendly.”

“Clever,” he nodded. “I’ll join in. If nothing else, I’ll get to see if you really are the capable politician you’re presenting yourself as.”

He smiled affably and shook hand, “If it gets us your head for numbers, I don’t care what your reason is.” They parted on the floor and each headed for their separate seat.

As the afternoon session was called to order, Cyrus imagined a curtain rising on the production he and Augusta had secretly planned. From his post as Chief Wizard, Albus Dumbledore announced, “For our first new business item, I ask Head Greengrass to summarize the proposal you and your cosignatories have brought.”

“Thank you, Chief Wizard,” he nodded respectfully and hoped that Augusta had given the man sufficient warning. “Fellows of the Wizengamot, I know that I was not alone in my frustration and outrage over the negative coverage of Hogwarts staff in recent days. While I acknowledge that revelations about Miss Skeeter’s crimes have destroyed her personal credibility, the revelations she brought were partially factual and highlighted gaps in the Hogwarts charter this body should close.”

Parchment appeared before each seat holder, and he continued. “What you have before you is our proposed update to the section D.2A. The current text only requires that an instructor be twenty-six years or older and approved by a majority vote of the Board of Governors. With respectful apologies to the board membership, thorough review of the results of these loose standards show how inconsistent the results have been.”

He let the echo of his voice die before he continued, “That is why Head Parkinson, Head Abbott, Head Selwyn and I have drafted this proposal. It will update the charter to require no less than an Exceeds Expectations on five NEWTs including their relevant field of instruction or a completed Mastery in their field of instruction.” Another parchment appeared, “You have before you the full draft legislation.” He sat and gave up the floor to the Chief Wizard.

“Thank you, Head Greengrass,” he cast an eye around the room. “Do I have a motion to open this for debate?”

Fudge stood and said firmly, “I move to open the debate.”

Head Bones leaned forward, “I second that motion.”

Once the procedural debate was opened, the legislation was out of his hands. Cyrus looked around the see who would be first to cast a hex. He was unsurprised when Head Crabbe stood to speak, “Hogwarts management is the responsibility of the Board of Governors. This chamber is not the place for a change to the school’s hiring policy.”

 _Thank you, Head Malfoy. Did you have him rehearse that?_ Cyrus thought sarcastically. 

Head Abbott stood to reply to his point, “Were we discussing a change in policy, Head Crabbe, I would agree with you. However, this is a proposed change to the the document that governs the governors. It, also, merely updates the hiring standards to align with some of our other critical jobs in wizarding society. You’ll notice that the requirement for NEWT scores is similar to the qualifications required to enter the Auror academy. Should we really expect a person that could not meet those requirements to properly teach others to meet them?”

Head Malfoy stood, “While this change seems well intentioned, we would not usually restructure our entire education system over a few bits of negative press.”

He stood to answer that comment directly. “Those negative articles in the Prophet may have focused on lurid details of specific instructors, but these requirements were born of the much deeper research that Ms. Skeeter never seemed to do.” He removed another parchment from his folio and set it on the transfer stone. It was instantly duplicated and appeared at every occupied seat. “You have before you the OWL and NEWT results of Hogwarts for the past twenty years. Note that the number of students passing the NEWT for Potions or Defense against the Dark Arts have dropped to the single digits.”

He listened to the noise of forty parchments rustling and watched Dumbledore frown at his copy of the data. Next, he placed a carefully drawn up comparison for dispersal across the space. “I have now provided you with a detailed overview of the requirements for each entry-level role within the ministry. Each job requires a mix of OWLs, NEWTs or years of apprenticeship. The last five years of Hogwarts graduates would not fill the last five years of openings without ministerial waivers.” He swallowed a bit of bile at his next statement, “I’m sure our Madame Undersecretary could attest to the dearth of qualified applicants to open ministry positions.”

When Madame Bones stood, he bowed courteously to give her the floor. She took her time, making a point of meeting the eyes of those members that seemed to be considering the legislation. “Many of you probably expect me to speak of the difficulty of filling Auror spots due to poor NEWT scores. However, I’m sure that Head Greengrass already has that data at his disposal. Instead, I will speak as a guardian. 

My niece, Susan, went off to Hogwarts with a bounce in her step. Had I suggested home schooling or international study, she’d have been horrified. Like all of us, she was told that Hogwarts was the best. When she came home for Yule, she insisted that I revise her entire Defense course work with her because she was sure that she would need to meet higher expectations the next year.” She let the silence of the room carry for a moment before she continued, “but the next year saw a fraud in the instructor slot. Tell me, how do we lie to ourselves about the quality of education from our only school of magic?” She gave up the floor without another word.

In the stunned silence of the room, Augusta stood to speak. “Many of you may expect,” she called across the chamber. “As I am the chairwoman of the Board of Governors, you may expect that I would defend our complete autonomy. Instead, I will acknowledge our fallibility.” She deliberately met the eyes of several governors in the room. “We are twelve people, and we are capable of mistakes. I support this legislation as a reminder to us that we must adhere to minimum standards so that our students… our future… can thrive in the world that we leave them.”

When his ally sat down, he could hear his heart beat into the silence. MacMillan stood next, and he knew. _It won’t pass today, but this measure will pass._ He listened to the rest of the debate, noting points and possible allies. _Augusta and I are good team, and this will work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being more politics than I meant to include in this part of the series, but the first scene was called "Kicking Dolores" in my outline. I couldn't bring myself to cut it.


	21. Chapter 21

Daphne set aside her father’s letter. _I can’t focus on politics right now. No matter that these politics relate to my education._ She dropped her head into her arms and tried not to think of the unsettling sense that things were about to go wrong. _I’ve never had any signs of the sight, but I feel like things are going too well._

She pulled out her arithmancy book and started making a chart for the third task. Her first layer only included the history of the tri-wizard tournament, but it was all wrong. Her results for the first two tasks, what Hermione would call her controls, were much milder than what had actually occurred. She frowned at them as though the calculations were at fault. _Obviously, I’m missing something._

She decided to add a layer specific to Harry. She incorporated his parent’s death, the troll from first year, and Sirius’s experiences. Her parchment scattered around her library table as the additional calculations layered onto the first. To her consternation, it still did not account for the events of their fourth year so far. 

“You have missed a variable, I think,” Viktor Krum murmured across the table. She jumped in surprise at her new company. “You are attempting to calculate the final task?”

She nodded, “I am sure that I am missing something, but I can’t find what it is.” She smiled at him, grateful for another set of eyes on her work. “Even when I account for Harry’s specifically bad luck, I can’t even get him into the tournament. Obviously, there is more at play here than I am aware of.”

He frowned at her starting point, “October 31, 1981… Are you sure this is the beginning for him? Perhaps there is something else? With his parents or other family?”

“It’s likely,” she acknowledged as she dragged her fingers through her hair. “His father was an auror, and his mother was a first generation witch. There could be many events prior to their death that impact his fate.” She cringed as he reviewed the layers that included Sirius’s public and private fate, but he seemed to overlook the practical events that would create those figures and runes.

They worked together for another few moments, but there was something in Viktor’s demeanor that worried her. Finally, he laid down his fountain pen and regarded her seriously from across the table. “If I share with you calculations from my mother, will you keep confidential?”

She immediately nodded, appreciating the trust he offered her. “I’ll keep it to myself. And I’m grateful that you would share it at all.”

His eyebrows creased into a thoughtful frown as he pulled a sheaf of parchments from his bag. “Mother did not start from beginning as you did. She rarely does,” he sighed deeply. “Instead, Mother started from selection of champions. She moved outward to understand what could allow four champions.” He used her quill to point out branches and microlayers in her own work. “She was much frustrated until she understood the history that Harry brought to tournament. He is child of fate.” 

She flinched at his statement, “Harry is… unusual to be sure, but to declare him a child of fate is…” She met his gaze with pleading eyes, “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

He looked at her with pity and covered her hand with his. “Perhaps it is extreme, but it was only thing that would account for missing variables in the calculations.”

“Perhaps there is another explanation that she did not consider” she said stubbornly. “If I were to provide her with a full arithmancy layer that is Harry? Would she review her calculations with that in mind? ”

“Dah,” he assured her. “Mother would gladly review a layer that is Harry. She would do because he is my friend, if nothing else.”

She chewed on her lip for a moment, lost in thought. When she looked back up at him, he was staring at her as though she were the arithmancy calculation. “What?” she asked him, flushing a little. 

“I have assumed that Hermione felt regard for Harry, but I was wrong,” he stated. “Always, the looks she sent, you were there.”

She met his gaze and made no effort to deny it. “It’s not something that would be accepted here,” she told him simply. “She could be in danger if people realized…”

He nodded, “This school is… not what I expected.” He fiddled with his muggle pen. “When I learned that Hogwarts accepted first generation, I thought there would be less hatred. Instead, some students would likely fit well with Headmaster Karkaroff.”

She considered that for a moment, “I think that the blood purists in our school have been emboldened lately, but the sentiment was always there. On the continent, you learned the lessons of Grindelwald’s rise better than we did.”

“Only some of us,” he shook his head sadly. He pulled her Harry layer toward him and began to examine it more closely. “Are you sure that all events are captured into layer?”

Exasperated, she laughed, “I’m actually rather certain that they aren’t. We would need Hermione or Harry himself to help us.”

“We are only two days until task. They are busy preparing?” he asked her quietly. When she nodded, he set his large hand across the parchment. “Perhaps, we keep this for after task? I wish you to see Mother’s calculations. They are incomplete but worrisome.”

With a sense of foreboding, she rolled up her work in process and cleared the table. He carefully rolled out a large parchment and used sticking charms at the corners to keep it from curling up. “You see,” he tapped the center runes. “Here is selection event with all four champions. Even the fourth selection required addition of fate rune to correct equation.”

“Why do you think it took such a powerful addition to correct it?” She knew it was unlikely that they would find a flaw in the work of a master, but she hoped for it. 

“Tri-Wizard tournament is based around three candidates. This magically powerful number is very hard to overcome especially in favor of much weaker number,” he pointed out the four corners of the parchment. “Four is malleable where three is not.”

She eyed the placement of the champions around the selection. “But the four elements of the earth and four corners of direction are core to most invocations and powerful protection spells.”

“But none are purely themselves. Fire is made of wood, air and heat. Water and air can become each other. The ash of a fire becomes earth,” he leaned across the table to point at the windrose in the top corner of the parchment. “Likewise, how far can you travel north around globe? You will eventually reach southern pole.”

She stopped resisting and stared at the Web of Wyrd. “Alright, I understand what you mean,” she looked over at him reluctantly. “What do you need us to know?”

“Harry must take every precaution,” he told her solemnly. “Mother has run calculations thirteen times since second task. In every one, the outcome of the task is shrouded in ominous darkness. All runes fail to resolve completely, but the ones that come close are Pain, Betrayal, Torment, and Death.” Daphne felt the world tilt beneath her, but she forced herself to focus as he took her through the possibilities.

* * *

Arms overloaded, Hermione crossed the threshold of her study room and kicked the door closed. She smiled at Ron as he relieved her of half of her burden. “What is all this stuff?” he asked he set it on her work table.

“Probably overkill, but,” she shrugged as Harry and Daphne started sorting through the sundry items she brought.

“Missy Hermione,” Winky’s solemn voice squeaked. “I’s could have helped you with that.”

She smiled guiltily at her, “I know you would have been happy to help, but I also know that you have other duties.” She held out her empty arms for a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Her little friend clung tightly in her embrace, but she was very aware of how frail she felt. _Mum says grief comes in all sorts of ways,_ she reminded herself. _I can only be there for her._ She ignored the busyness behind them and let the hug continue until Winky pulled back. 

They moved over to where Daphne and Ron were examining the last minute items sent from Sirius and Remus. “I understand why the chocolate,” Ron tapped on the shrunken bars wrapped in stasis wrap. “But why did he send these dreadful blue trousers?” He lifted the folded pants up and grimaced at the weight. “These things weigh more than Harry does!”

She laughed at him, “They are muggle motorcycle pants. They’re a special protective fabric.” She smiled at Winky, “I think they’re going to be too big for Harry. Can you alter them without changing the density of the material.”

As usual, she perked up with a task to do, “Ohs yes, Missy Hermione.” She snapped her fingers, and a seamstress stool appeared. Harry yelped when, at the second snap, he was popped into place on the stool. His robe drifted over to hang itself on a hook on the wall.

“Well,” he chuckled as he looked down at himself. “At least you left most of my clothes on.” The rest of them laughed as Winky stepped around him with a critical eye. She held out her hand for the motorcycle pants and muttered as they held themselves against Harry.

Daphne walked back to the table and carefully marked off chocolate as she added it to his expansion pouch. Hermione watched her a moment with worry. _Ever since this morning, she hasn’t been herself. Even when she laughs and smiles, it’s dimmer. It’s like something has put a shadow over her spirit._ Safe in their trusted company, she stepped behind her love and wrapped her arms around her. 

Absently, her girlfriend patted her hand, “I’m ok, love.” She whispered the words, “I just want to make sure that we don’t miss anything.” She kissed the back of her neck to try and comfort her.

“How could we miss anything, Daphne?” Ron asked her with a smile. “We’ve gotten five people plus Dobby and Winky to check our list. We’re as prepared as we can be. Blimey, Harry and I went into the Chamber of Secrets with no plan, one and a half wands and useless old Lockhart! We’re much better off now than we’ve ever been.”

Hermione cuffed him lightly on the back of the head, “Hush, Ron! You’ll jinx us!” She stepped around the table and pulled out two unbreakable vials. “Here’s the Dittany that Remus wanted us to pack. Probably best to put that in with the Murtlap treated bandages.” She pulled a scrap of leather towards her and began to transfigure it into a case for the first aid supplies.

Ron rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her. When she ignored him, he picked up the Firebolt and shrank it carefully so that it would fit into the mouth of the pouch. “Dobby?” He called out as he worked. 

When the other elf appeared in his ICW robes, she smiled at him. “Ohs, My goodness!” He marveled happily at the scene. “Yous is all so busy!”

With a shake of his red hair, her friend grinned at him. “We’re trying to get all this packed together tonight so we know if we’re missing anything.” He pleaded, “We’re bound to miss dinner, and Winky is busy altering Harry’s clothes. Would you mind bringing us some dinner?”

Harry called over as Dobby popped away, “Do you really think we should spend all this time packing? Maybe I should work more on spell practice?”

She grinned proudly at him, “I think we can manage both, don’t you?” She moved over to the shelf where she had hair ties looped around a holder. She gathered her wild curls together into a bun while Winky finished pinning up the heavy pants. 

She and Ron moved over to the dueling area and took their stances. They had done this so much since the second task that they moved in concert as Harry stepped over to join them. Daphne continued packing and muttering to herself, but they tuned out the rest of the room. Without warning, she fired the first spell and their duel was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of fun researching runes for this chapter - though I only used a little of what I found.
> 
> http://historyofvikings.com/web-of-wyrd/


	22. Chapter 22

The morning of the final task dawned, but Harry slept through sunrise. Winky had insisted that he take a mild sleeping potion the night before. He was mothered so rarely, that he lacked any defenses against it. By the time he woke, his dorm was quiet and empty.

He stretched and yawned before he reached for his glasses. _I’ve not felt this rested in a while. I wonder if I missed breakfast._ He cast a tempus, but breakfast in the hall was nearly over. He drew his magic to him. “Winky? Could you come here please?”

She appeared at the foot of his bed with a smile that failed to brighten her glum face. Part of him wanted to rail at the dead man that had caused her such pain, but he knew it would do no good. “Morning, Winky,” he murmured instead. “Do you think there’s something left I could have for breakfast?”

“Of courses, Mister Harry,” she squeaked promptly. “I’s saved you a tray for when yous woke up.” She popped away before he could thank her but was back in seconds.

He pulled his legs in as he sat up on the bed. She settled the tray in between them and began pulling covers off the food. “Dobby’s is helping the Headmastery Mugwump with alls the visitors, but hes told me what yous usually will eat.”

He focused on his gratitude and offered her a smile. “Thanks Winky,” he told her, relieved when her ears perked up slightly. “Will you sit with me? Keep me company?”

She nodded gently, “Of course, Mister Harry.” She poured him a cup of tea and spread a generous layer of jam on his toast. His nerves tried to turn his stomach, but he took a bite anyway.

“Do house elves eat?” he asked in hopes of distracting himself from the upcoming ordeal.

She gave him a rare laugh, and he glowed with the triumph. “Yes, sirs, Mister Harry,” she assured him. She popped a strawberry into her mouth, leaves and all. “We’s don’t eats as much or all same things, but we do eats.”

He grinned at her, “What’s your favorite food?” He finished his toast and went back for another piece as she thought.

“Favorite?” she ate a few grapes off the tray. “My very favorite food,” she snapped her fingers and a small bowl appeared on their tray. “Tomatoes!” She was almost gleeful as she popped a red orb in her mouth.

His eyes widened, and he snagged a tomato for himself. “These are perfect! Do we grow them here?”

She nodded happily, “Professory Sprouts tends them herself. Hoggywarts grows good food.”

“Well,” he told her decisively. “You and your fellow house elves are brilliant cooks! I don’t think I’ve ever had a bad meal since I’ve been here.”

She shrugged bashfully, “I’s not do so much cooking, but the kitchen elves be very skilled.” Something seemed to temper her happy mood, but Harry tried to let her work it out in silence. “I’s finished altering yous clothes for today,” she whispered. “Yous will be sure to be careful?”

He nodded, “I’m as prepared as I can be.” Even as he reassured her, he wished she had not brought up the topic.

“Yous is prepared as the other candidates, Mister Harry,” she agreed. “But yous is not like the other candidates.” Her eyes filled with tears, “Winky does not wish to lose anyones else. Winky coulds not bear the pains.”

He set the tray on his bedside table and pulled her into a gentle hug. “I’ll be careful, Winky,” he promised. As she cried on his shoulder, he wished for a way to help her.

* * *

The sea breeze drifted languidly through the leaves of the Forbidden Forest. Rita could hear the awkward thunk of Moody’s fake leg before she could see the man that walked on it. _I know why it’s necessary, but I much prefer Barty’s face to that hideous countenance._ She waited patiently for the signal that he was alone.

He waved his wand around the small clearing, and then called out, “Pretty Reetle? I’ve missed you.”

From anyone else, she would have hated his nickname, but it was one that only they knew. She caught the wind under her wings and flew down from her tree. With deliberate drama, she transitioned back to her human form in mid-air. She stepped toward him with a rare, genuine smile.

“Hello, my dear friend,” she purred as she stepped toward him. “Are we ready for the grand event of the evening?” Despite their code, she was careful to keep her question vague out of an abundance of caution.

He grinned maniacally. With his borrowed scars, even she was disconcerted by the effect. “I am so very ready! Soon, my master will be restored.” He whispered sweetly, “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

Finally, she was reassured the he was himself. “What should I do to help? You often tell me that failure is punished. I would not have that fate for you, my friend.” _My only friend,_ she added to herself.

He stepped close to brush her blond curls behind her ear. “I intend to use the Durmstrang boy to help me. His traitorous headmaster deserves to see his golden boy fall.” She closed her eyes so that she could imagine his true face as he spoke. “My pretty Reetle, will you keep watch? Help me make sure that all goes as planned?”

She smiled gratefully, “Of course, I will gladly stand watch over the proceedings.” She wanted to hug him, but she resisted. Her first hug since Ellouise Adwr’s death would not come from a false form. “Tell me your plan, I want to help you.”

Hours later, she heard that blowhard Bagman announce the start of the maze. She rested quietly inside a shrub that marked the first pinch point of the maze. There was one other passage she could not view from there, but she heard the stomping of running feet coming her direction and knew she had chosen wisely.

Potter, in the lead, had started first. He struggled with something out of her sight and seemed slightly winded when he jogged around her corner. Pleased with his progress, she shifted her position just in time to see Barty strike Krum with an Imperious from behind. The mudblood loving brute blinked in a daze until he heard the French bitch clambering along behind him. 

At first, he stepped aside and let her pass. He smirked like Barty when he toyed with that pathetic little elf, and then he stalked after her. The girl squealed a little before she cast a water spell. _I hope that wretched fire crab singed your pretty face!_ Though all the champions had defied her, that haughty girl was everything she loathed in a witch.

Krum lumbered up behind the girl, and Rita fluttered over to catch the show. He caught her in a tripping jinx and laughed as she fell on her arse. “Viktor!” she sounded angry, but her tone turned nervous when she met his eyes. “All right, my friend, you got me! Go on and make your way!” He stayed silent as he raised his wand again. Rita held her beetle breath in anticipation. 

Suddenly, he froze. _What are you waiting for?_ she thought frantically. Instead of cursing her, he stood like a statue with his wand only half raised. _The girl is doing something to him!_ she realized. Remembering the veela allure, she moved so that she could see his face. 

His mouth gaped open, and his hands began to shake. “Viktor!” the girl called to him. “We are friends! You do not hurt your friends.” He blinked slowly in response.

Suddenly afraid that he would break from Barty’s control, she leapt from the shrub and stood on her own feet. Delacour screamed in fright, and the power of the moment rushed through her. Without a word of warning, Rita cried, “Sectumsempra!” She thrilled as blood gushed from wounds over the girl’s body. _Oh, Barty! That is a lovely spell!_

It was only the sound of running from deeper in the maze that pulled her from the hypnotic sight of the girl’s writhing. Just as Potter rounded the corner, she disillusioned herself and turned into her beetle form so that she could keep further watch. The foolish boy skidded to the dying girl’s side and looked to Krum for answers. 

The brute still stood, unable to throw off the curse completely. Wisely, Potter stunned him before turning back to her victim. “It’s alright Fleur! You’re going to be ok!” He dug through the pouch on his waist. Just as he yanked out a roll of bandages, the Diggory boy showed up behind him. Neither of them noticed the shrunken Firebolt on the ground.

“Harry! What happened?” he desperately tried to cover the three approach points as the skinny boy on the ground poured potions and bandaged the girl’s still bleeding wounds.

The desperate girl gasped and whispered something. “Have you shot sparks?” Diggory asked frantically.

Potter shook his head, “I’ve got my hands full trying to stop the bleeding!”

Diggory grabbed Krum’s wand and fired red sparks into the air. “Help is on the way! Stick with us Fleur!” He shouted this over his shoulder as he kept alert for threats. 

Crotchety old McGonagall parted the hedges and marched up. She cast a patronus and demanded. “Alert Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape of grave injuries.” The cat ran off through the hedges as she turned to the older boy. “Mr. Diggory! What happened?”

“I’m not sure, Professor!” he gasped out just as Barty limped forward in his disguise. “I ran this way when I heard Fleur scream.”

Barty looked between them all and nodded. “You’ve done well,” he said to them. “We’ll get Delacour and Krum out of here. You boys go finish this.”

“Alastor!” McGonagall protested from opposite Potter at the girl’s side. “Surely this is no time for further games!”

“They’ve not been incapacitated! They dare not forfeit. It’s too great a risk,” he said it so urgently and earnestly that even Rita might have believed him. “Go on, the both of you. We’ll take care of your friends.”

With obvious reluctance, the older boy grabbed Potter by the arm and hauled him around the corner. Rita, still exulting in her revenge, followed after them. To her irritation, the boys stopped within earshot of the rescue party behind them. 

The Hufflepuff boy raised his wand, and she tensed in preparation for the change. “Tergeo,” he said simply and, with a wave of his wand, the blood vanished from them both.

Potter blinked stupidly at him, and Rita wished for human lips with which to sneer. “Cedric?” he whispered.

“We should stick together for now,” he told him. “I’ve no desire to have House Greengrass on my arse for letting you get hurt.” He smirked at his joke, but the other boy failed to laugh.

“Fleur said it was Skeeter,” he said simply. She cursed to herself and considered obliviating them both. “Fleur said that Skeeter is in the maze with us and attacked her.”

The other boy nodded briskly, “All the more reason to stick together, at least for now.” He clasped the smaller boy on the shoulder. “You alright to continue?” When Potter shoved away from the hedge wall that he leaned against, he nearly brushed her beetle form.

The boys were still together after four obstacles, and Rita was desperately trying to think of a way to separate them. When they rounded the next corner, a Sphinx guarded their path. “Two there are when only one may pass. Choose between you. I’ll not break your impasse.”

They scurried back around the corner and conferred frantically. “What do you think we should do?” Potter asked him. “I’m pants at riddles.”

His opponent laughed, “With our luck, there’s no good way around it.”

The other boy jumped and started digging through his pouch, “Where is it? Where is it?” She wanted to roll her eyes at his stalling, but a beetle lacked the muscles for it. “Accio Firebolt!” he called out. Rather than jumping out from his pouch, it flew madly through the branches of the hedge wall and braked to a stop before his eyes.

Diggory laughed at the miniature broom that levitated before them. “That’s brilliant! Despite seeing your performance in the first task, I didn’t think to do the same.” 

Potter unshrunk the broom but cursed at damage to the twigs. “How did that happen?” he cried in dismay. _Stupid child!_ she laughed to herself.

“I wouldn’t try to fly it, but it’s repairable,” his friend reassured him. “Firebolt can retwig a broom like that, but, until they do, it won’t fly or steer worth a damn.”

He shrunk it back and put it into his pouch, “Why don’t you go first with the Sphinx? I’ll try to find another way around.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Diggory said. She was tempted to curse him in the back out of impatience. “How about Paper, Scissors, Stone? Best two of three?”

She tapped her front leg on a leaf as the two teens settled things to their satisfaction. _If only they would separate, I could stun the Puff and be done with this!_ The older boy won their game, much to her aggravation. She flew around the Sphinx while he faced it and set a fire moat around the trophy.

With a hasty stinging hex to rile the acromantula, she flew back around in time to hear the riddle for Potter: 

> Eight pallbearers carry,  
> death across the floor.  
> He weaves his shroud for those that move,  
> to make sure they move no more.

He swore under his breath, and she laughed cruelly at him. He still stumbled, and she worried for her Barty. _The boy must win the cup, or Barty’s master will be displeased._ She tried to think of a way to cue him in when he shouted, “Spider!”

The Sphinx moved aside just as an acromantula burst through from the wrong side of the maze. The stupid child faced the monster shooting fire spells. It shrieked in pain, setting all her beetle instincts to _flee!_ She held her position only by force of will. 

From opposite the dying beast, Diggory emerged. He was bloodied and soot stained. “Harry, are you alright?” he asked, once again earning her derision.

“I’m ok,” he panted. “Which is more than I can say for Aragog’s kid.”

Based on the boy’s expression, he, also, did not understand that comment. “Ugh, Aragog?” he grunted.

“Really?” Potter sounded surprised. “Daphne insists that everyone knows that story.” Just as she longed to curse him for dawdling, he waved toward the gap in the hedges. “Anything else we need to worry about around that corner?”

“Oh, yeah,” the other boy nodded and led the way to the cup that was surrounded by fire. “I haven’t even had a chance to deal with that yet.”

 _Idiot!_ Rita thought as she transformed and eliminated the fire ring. It faded away, and they gasped in surprise. Still disillusioned, she transformed back for safety.

“Maybe, it only went away because the acromantula died?” Potter suggested. “That sounds like one of my cousin’s video games.”

“What’s a video game?” the Diggory boy echoed her confusion at the absurd comment.

“I’ll tell you later,” he promised. “I’ll tell you after you take the cup.”

She swore and prepared to intervene again when the Puff shook his head. “You deserve it just as much as I do.” He pressed his point before the child could speak up. “You stayed behind to save Fleur’s sister. Hell, you saved Fleur! And, I wouldn’t have known about the dragons if you hadn’t told me!” He sputtered for a moment, “if that cursed bludger hadn’t gone after you, we wouldn’t have tied in the race! And if it weren’t for those dementors, you’d have won that game!”

“Cedric, you -” he was cut off.

“No, Harry,” he told him stridently. “You deserve that cup. You earned it.”

“So did you, though,” Potter insisted. Rita wanted to gag. “Don’t you see that you saved Fleur too? I wouldn’t have thought to send red sparks for Fleur. She was still bleeding with what I tried for her. She needed more help than I could give.” Before she could decide to transform and stun them both, he said, “Why don’t we do it together? It’ll be an true Hogwarts win.”

To her glee, the two boys agreed on this solution. She held her breath as they counted down to three. They grabbed the handles and disappeared. With relief, Rita climbed up to the highest leaf and caught the wind. 

* * *

Harry felt the hook at his navel of a portkey and sent Cedric a wide-eyed look. Before they even landed in the dark and gloomy place, his scar seared in pain. _Voldemort!_ He dropped his side of the cup and shoved Cedric behind a stone.

He knocked the breath from them both when they landed. From the other side of a memorial statue, they heard the sibilate voice from his nightmares. “Peter, bind the boy and kill the spare.”

His friend grasped their danger quickly and clutched his shoulder. “We’ve got to get out of here, Harry!”

He peered around the monument and spotted Pettigrew as he placed a shrouded form on the ground next to a large bubbling cauldron. A huge snake coiled around it protectively. He pointed in the opposite direction toward a low mausoleum.

Cedric poked his head out and yanked back to avoid a splash of green spell-fire. “Those aren’t stunners!” He shouted.

“Peter! I need the boy alive!” Voldemort hissed out the command.

Harry fired off a wild string of consecutive disarming charms from a gap in the feet of the statue. Pettigrew dodged and shielded to avoid losing his wand. By the time he cast an overpowered _Reducto_ at their cover, the boys were already running toward the larger stone building.

Marble shrapnel fell harmlessly from his protective clothing, but his friend was not so lucky. A chunk of marble crashed into Cedric’s temple. Dazed, he cast wildly over Harry’s head at their enemy. He stumbled. Harry braced him with his shoulder as they sprinted the final steps together toward cover.

Desperate to keep Pettigrew busy, Harry fired more disarming spells into the clearing. Cedric retched and choked behind him. “Shit! How bad are you hurt?” He cried in between spells.

“Not sure,” came the dazed voice behind him. “Everything’s blurry and,” his voice cut off into gagging.

Pettigrew called out, “Harry, my boy, there’s no point in this. You will restore my master. You have no choice.”

Following that taunting voice, he shot another string of spells that sent his foe ducking behind a large gravestone. “Cedric, can you try to heal yourself?”

“Don’t think I can cast it,” his friend stepped into his field of view. He was horrified to see his pallor and the dark blood dripping from a gash on his head.

Afraid to take eyes from Peter, he quickly pointed his wand at Cedric’s wound. “Episkey!” He cast desperately. The mild healing spell did little to improve his state. “Episkey!” He tried again.

A flicker of movement from Pettigrew, and he blasted out spells at him once more. From his side, Cedric whispered. “It helped, but I’m going to need something more powerful than that.”

He desperately unbuckeled his expansion pouch. “See what else Hermione packed for me!” He jerked his head back towards the danger and kept his wand pointed at Peter’s hiding spot. _Just stay right there. We just need time!_ To his friend, he asked, “Can you apparate us out of here?”

“No,” he still sounded weak. “It’ll have to be the portkey.”

Harry moved to summon it, but nothing happened. “Anti-Summoning charms! Dammit!”

The Triwizard Cup beckoned enticingly from the far side of the base of their first cover. He cursed to realize they had run away from their only escape. Beside him, Cedric cast the healing charm on himself and whimpered in pain. “Harry, I think you used most of your supplies on Fleur.” He pulled out a scrap of fabric and used it to catch the last drops of dittany. When he pressed it to his head, he hissed in pain before relaxing slightly.

“Peter! Stop toying with the boy and finish this!” Voldemort’s voice still called from the same place. Harry kept his eyes on the cup and Pettigrew’s crouched form.

He spied a leg from the destroyed statue. It lay just beyond the trophy. Inspired, Harry shot a sticking charm at the hunk of marble and summoned it. When it crashed into the cup, both objects began flying toward them.

“Reducto!” Pettigrew cried. As the marble fragmented and the cup fell, the traitor stepped from his hiding spot. “Harry, Harry... you remind me of your father. Creative, but rash...”

He fired at the rat, but his attention was still on the portkey. It was undamaged and temptingly close. “Cedric, can you make a run for it?”

The injured boy smirked at him. “Do I have a choice?”

Reassured, Harry cast rapid-fire at Pettigrew to force him back. He uprooted a grave marker and sent it flying at him. He reduced the monument to a cloud of shrapnel. Then, they ran.

The damage he caused distracted his enemy. The two boys flung themselves the few meters to their salvation. Too late, Harry heard a rustle and slither. Cedric cried out in pain and fell, dragging him to the ground with him.

The snake struck her prey twice more. Venom leaked from the fang wounds in Cedric’s calf. Desperately, he tried to drag them both along to the portkey. Pettigrew laughed viciously, and the world went dark.

Sounds of rasping laughter woke Harry. He blinked in disorientation and twisted his arms. Slowly, the world around him began to make a nightmarish sort of sense. _I’m tied._ He tugged at his bonds to test them. _I’m bound to something… stone?_

He opened his eyes at another mocking laugh. _Cedric!_ Across a clearing in the cemetery, his friend gasped and twitched in pain. His arms were twisted behind him and black blood oozed from wounds in his leg. To one side of him, Pettigrew tended a cauldron.

“Nagini, my pet,” Voldemort’s sinister voice came from one side of him. “Soon, you can feast on the boy, but, for now, save your venom.” Despite those sibilant words, Cedric yelled when the snake slithered over his bare feet. _Parseltongue_ _? He can’t understand… Does Voldemort know that I can?_

The question became moot when the voice ordered, “Wormtail! The child is awake! Begin the ritual!”

Pettigrew gathered a few things near the fire as the voice taunted, “Those that held you up as my downfall will curse your bones, boy! You will bring about my return, and this world will know you as a tool of my resurrection!”

Harry looked away from the traitor and met his friend’s eyes. Blood no longer dripped from the wound on his head, but his face had taken on a blue tinge. “I think we should have just stayed in the maze, Harry,” he whispered. “That acromantula wasn’t so bad.” He tried to gasp out a laugh, but the snake lashed out and sunk her fangs into his foot.

“Leave him alone, you bitch!” he shouted in parseltongue. The snake coiled around and struck out at him. She came so close to his face that he could see her dry fangs. Enraged, Harry spit on her.

Wormtail shouted, “Crucio!” Harry tensed in preparation, but it was Cedric that screamed in agony.

“Enough!” Voldemort demanded. At his order, the cemetery went silent. He could hear the snake sliding along the ground toward the voice. Off to the side, the fire crackled under the large cauldron. “Wormtail, the potion is ready. Add the ingredients, and restore your master.”

The ratlike man bowed low and walked over to him. He held up a large ritual knife. _Wish you hadn’t tied my hands so well, I’d introduce you to the muggle knife I brought._ Before he could decide on something properly defiant to say, Peter slashed out and ropes around one wrist fell away. He grabbed his wrist with a painful twist and slashed upward under his sleeve. 

The knife was dull, and he shouted with the pain. “Leave him alone you bastard!” Cedric tried to shout, but his voice was labored with pain, blood loss and venom. Still, he earned a kick to his blackened leg as Peter passed him. He screamed in pain but then went limp.

Harry’s arm still bled, but he subtlely moved his fingers to make sure they worked. He tuned out Voldemort and Pettigrew’s voices for the moment as he scanned the graveyard. _There!_ The portkey was only a scant meter from Cedric. 

He scanned back to his friend and flinched at his state. _He’ll never be able to run like that. I can’t even tell if he’s conscious!_ Harry twisted his head to watch Pettigrew and tried to figure out what happened to his wand. To his relief, there were three wands in a bundle of items next to the headstone Cedric was bound to.

“Bone of the Father, unknowingly given, you will restore your son!” Wormtail called out with power in his voice as he dropped something into the cauldron. Harry used his loose and bloody hand to fumble for his dive knife. Once he had it, he slashed the ropes at his other hand but kept them in place with his fingers.

He was glad of the precaution when Nagini turned her eyes to him at the noise. From one side of the cauldron, he heard, “Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will restore your master!” He flinched as Pettigrew cut off his own hand, but the smell of blood and his cry of pain distracted the serpent.

He took no more chances. Quickly, he sliced through the ropes that held his feet and dove for the bundle of wands. Nagini struck seconds too slowly, and Harry raised his bloody arm to defend himself as he fumbled for his wand. 

The tip of his knife pierced the top of her head, and its handle held her mouth open in death. Voldemort screamed in rage, but Pettigrew was helpless. Stopping the ritual at that point would mean death for him and his master. “Blood of the enemy, unwillingly given, you will restore your foe!”

Harry heard his words, but he had already summoned the shard of marble still stuck to the Triwizard Cup. He pressed the bundle of wands between them as he wrapped his uninjured arm around Cedric’s waist. The cup slammed into his hand, and the hook around his navel dragged them both away from the screams, blood and death behind them.

* * *

Augusta sat stiffly between her brother-in-law and grandson. The stands were unnaturally silent. The grumbling about a poor show had faded when Delacour was carried out on a stretcher. A dazed looking Krum stumbled after her.

Two rows below her, Daphne Greengrass clung to the hands of her friends on either side of her. Her parents sat behind her, each with hand on her shoulder. “Cyrus,” she called him quietly. He turned to her with a mirror of her anxiety on his face. “I think we’ve let this farce go on long enough. It’s time we demand that the staff intervene.”

He nodded and turned back to his daughter as she stood. Augusta sought Amos Diggory while he instructed, “Wait five minutes, then gather anyone you see fit and head for the announcer stands.” She sent Neville a firm look so that he knew to be a part of their second wave.

She scanned across the stands and found her next target only a few rows away. Ignoring the eavesdroppers and sneering blonds, she dutifully said, “Narcissa, I’m going to see about Alice’s godson. Do you wish to join me?”

The woman pressed her lips tightly in displeasure when her son began to protest. “Hush, Draco, your petulance wears on my patience.” To Augusta, she only said, “Given my cousin’s crimes, that may not be appropriate. Know that you have my support should you need it.” 

Unsurprised, the older woman turned away and descended from the spectator seats. On the grass, she joined Cyrus and Amos Diggory. Together, they marched for the announcer’s stand as a united front. Before they were within earshot, she could see that all was not well.

“If it hadn’t been for Severus casting the counter, Miss Delacour would have died!” Minerva insisted. “We need to declare the entire task cancelled and get those boys out of there!”

Bagman sputtered, but it was Albus that frightened them all. “I’m afraid that is impossible,” he started slowly. When he stopped and began to look around the stand, Augusta’s anxiety boiled over.

“Explain!” she demanded sharply. By the startled reactions from several parties to the conversation, their arrival had not been broadly noticed.

“According to the Hogwarts wards, Mr. Potter and Mr. Diggory are no longer on the grounds,” he said it calmly, but it was not received that way.

“What?” Fudge pressed forward. “This a debacle! Dumbledore, how is that possible?”

“Plainly, that will have to be investigated,” Moody butted in briskly. His loathing for Fudge was evident.

“Bedamned to your investigation!” Cyrus barked out just as a small mob of teenagers and a few adults began streaming from the stands. “Amos, will you provide a sample to scry for them? We must only hope they are together!”

The distraught father nodded mutely as Dumbledore eyed them both with surprise, “Sibyl will have the appropriate items.” He called out, “Dobby!” A little house elf appeared beside him. “Alert Professor Trelawney that we will need her to scry for Mr. Diggory. Then ask the kitchen elves to prepare the Great Hall for an influx of visitors.”

“What?” Fudge nearly squealed his dismay. “You can’t tell people The Boy Who Lived is missing! They will panic!”

Amos snarled at him, but Minerva rested a hand on his shoulder. “This many people could disrupt the results. Besides, how panicked would they be to see a blood scry going on?”

Bagman stepped forward. “I’ll handle this, Minister.” He cast to amplify his voice and called out, “It seems we made our maze a bit too difficult! The champions are barely halfway! The Headmaster has ordered refreshments set up in the Great Hall. I recommend you hurry that way. We will alert you when they are closer to their goal.”

Swelling voices could be heard and spectators rose from the stands. Many of them shambled slowly toward the castle, but others simply milled around aimlessly. “Will that be enough of them out of the way, Albus?” she asked.

To her relief, he nodded, “I think so.” He clasped a hand on Amos’s shoulder. “We’ll find them, Amos. Those boys are clever enough to stick together.”

Augusta descended the stairs to the ground where Neville and his friends paced. “Gran,” he approached her hopefully, but she only shook her head.

“We don’t know anything yet,” she looked over his shoulder where Algie shared her worry. 

She caught snips of conversations as she walked towards the maze entrance. “We’re trying to…” “But, the map won’t help…” “Skeeter was in the maze with them…” She froze at the last and whirled around to Bagman. “What did you say?” she advanced on him and barely noted when he stepped back in fear. “What did you say about Rita Skeeter?”

“D - Delacour said she recognized her attacker,” he stammered. “She said she was cursed by Rita Skeeter.”

Confusion reigned in the wake of that announcement, but Fudge spoke the loudest. “Obviously, she’s gone mad! She might be behind the whole conspiracy!”

Before anyone else could respond to his idiocy, a pop sounded behind them and the remaining spectators gasped. She whirled around to see Harry Potter clutching the too still form of Cedric Diggory. Even as she took in their bloodied and battered appearance, Harry leaned back his head and screamed, “H-E-L-P!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are inclined to learn anything from fanfic, call for help before you render direct aid. It took both Harry's first aid, and the urgent attention from McGonagall and Snape to save Fleur from Skeeter's curse.
> 
> Side note - Sectumsempra was a curse that a young Snape created with a counter. When he went to impress his fellow Death Eaters, would he really have taught them the melodic counter?


	23. Chapter 23

Hermione gasped at the sight of her friend. He knelt on the ground over Cedric, both of them obviously hurt. She ran to him, barely noticing the black and brown dog running with her. Cedric’s father helped her blaze a path through the crowd.

“My boy!” Mr. Diggory cried out as he took his limp son from Harry. “What did this? What happened?”

“Snake,” was all a breathless Harry could get out at first. She pulled him backward and hugged him tight. It felt like time slowed while Professor Snape and McGonagall dragged Diggory off his son so they could examine him. “He was bit by a snake, I don’t know what kind. I think I killed it.”

She wanted to curse their potions professor for replying, “Pity you didn’t bring the body. It would make his survival more likely.” He lifted Cedric onto the stretcher Professor McGonagall provided. 

“We need to get him to Poppy quickly, if we’re going to save him,” she said this to Mr. Diggory, and he calmed enough to move with them. The three adults ran alongside the levitating stretcher, leaving chaos behind them.

Harry turned wild green eyes to her, “It was Pettigrew! He was trying to bring back Voldemort.” The dog with them whined and nudged closer into their hug.

“That’s preposterous!” Fudge burst out loudly from behind them. “Pettigrew is dead, and He-That-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone for good! You saw to that yourself, boy!” He only realized that he shouted when he looked around at the crowd. “Obviously, this was a conspiracy by Sirius Black and his accomplice Rita Skeeter! The entire DMLE will be on the case! I will see to it.”

Hermione had never considered herself a violent person, but she wanted to strangle the Minister in that moment. From the look on Remus’s face, she was not alone. “It wasn’t Black! It was Peter Pettigrew! I’ve told you before that that rat traitor is alive!” Harry gasped out, his voice too weak to shout.

The minister drew up all his dignity and spoke to Headmaster Dumbledore. “Obviously, the poor boy’s memories have been altered. We’ll get no sense out of him.” He turned away and began talking to Lucius Malfoy quietly.

“Whatever happened,” Professor Moody spoke up from Harry’s only open side. “We need to get you inside. It’s too exposed out here, and you need treatment for your injuries.” Padfoot growled when Moody tried to grab Harry’s arm. “Miss Granger,” he directed, “see to returning this dog to his owner.”

Anxious and confused, she only said, “Yes Professor.” She picked up the leash that dangled over Padfoot’s back and looked over her shoulder for Remus. When she looked back toward Harry, Moody already had him paces away from the crowd. She turned back quickly, eager to relay her message so that she could follow. Several people grumbled and glowered as she tried to push through. 

A hand on her wrist made her jump and clutch her wand. “Hermione!” Daphne’s urgent tone turned her. “Where are you going? Where is Moody taking Harry? What’s going on?”

The questions snapped her back to reality, and she met Remus’s eyes over the heads and shoulders of chattering spectators. She jerked her head toward the lake and walked quickly that direction. To her relief, Daphne, Tracey, Ron and Neville intercepted her as she met Remus. 

She looked past them all but could no longer see Harry. “That’s not right,” she murmured to herself. To her compatriots, she urgently summed up what she knew. “Cedric is badly injured. Harry said Pettigrew was trying to resurrect Voldemort.” She ignored the flinches and scanned the grounds. “The minister didn’t believe him so I don’t know what help we’ll have. Moody said he was taking him inside to get treated for his own injuries, but I don’t see them.”

Remus breathed in deeply, and his eyes were tinged with yellow when he opened them. “Polyjuice…” he whispered. Padfoot growled from his side. “I agree,” he told the dog, apparently forgetting that Tracey and Neville did not know their secrets. “I don’t like it,” he looked around at them. “Pads and I are going after him. Ron, do you have the map?”

He shook his head, “The twins went to go get it. Hermione and I can intercept them.”

“I,” he looked around at them and focused on Neville and Tracey. “I am not your professor anymore. There are things you can do to help, but only if you want to.” She was not surprised when they nodded steadily. 

Remus thought a moment, then told them. “Alright, we need allies. I don’t know what the original plan was, but Harry coming back here couldn’t have been part of it. Neville and Ron, go toward Gryffindor tower and try to intercept the twins. Then, go to the Headmaster and use the map to find out if Skeeter or any other enemies are still on the grounds. Tracey, find Arthur Weasley and tell him to alert Kingsley Shacklebolt of what’s happened. Hermione and Daphne, go to Professor McGonagall, she should be in the Hospital Wing assisting Madame Pomfrey. Stay together and be careful.”

With obvious impatience, he lifted his nose to the breeze and took off toward the castle with Padfoot. Hermione looked to Ron, “Be careful.”

He nodded, “You too. Come on, Nev.” The boys jogged away, and she cast her eyes toward Tracey and Daphne.

“Tracey, get my father before you go to Weasley,” she was telling her friend. “Harry needs as much help as we can get him.”

They parted, and she fell into quick step with her girlfriend. “Why do you think he’s so concerned?” Daphne asked tensely. “Isn’t Harry safe with Moody?”

“Something set Padfoot off when Moody came near,” she told her simply. “And Remus said he smelled Polyjuice.” Their eyes met in worry, and they began jogging toward the closest castle entrance.

* * *

Rita leaned back in the side chair next to the unlit fireplace. _Soon, Barty and I can be quit of this wretched school._ She sipped a glass of white wine as she waited for him to alert her of their next move.

To her shock, the floo flared and turned green. She froze and stepped to one side while she waited for the voice from the other side. “Barty!” she recognized Peter Pettigrew from the fire. She moved forward and said sharply, “He is still outside.” The man’s unpleasant face was replaced with another.

“Rita Skeeter,” the sibilant voice that came through had her heart slamming in her chest even as she sank to the floor to face him. 

“Yes,” she whispered. “What does the Dark Lord order?”

He smiled slightly at her question. “I am restored, but the boy escaped. I have need of my most loyal follower. Tell Barty to come to me immediately. If he is able to bring the boy, good, but he is not to risk his life.”

“Yes, my lord,” she gasped out. Before she could overcome her fear at the encounter, he was gone. She stayed on the floor for a moment. Layered in with her fear, she felt a rush of giddiness. When she stood a moment later, she felt triumphant at her connection to a power unlike anything else she had ever known.

“Winky!” she called out sharply. The wretch appeared to her, but she did not spare her a glance. “Where is your master?”

“Hes was at the maze,” she answered uselessly. “I’s not sure if he remains there.”

“Go and find him.” she demanded. “If he is alone, tell him his Lord has given me a message for him. If he is not, come back to me and report.” The insolent creature popped away without an answer.

With her gone, she moved urgently through the locked DADA office, gathering items for their escape. She looked around the room and tried to think of what evidence she needed to destroy. _Difficult to know what Dumbledore could glean from what we leave behind._

She surveyed the room with a journalist’s eyes. After a moment, she was satisfied with her plan. She marched to the floo and severed its magical connection. She set the floo powder jar on the table to take with them. 

Next, she moved to the desk. She burned Barty’s papers and any sample of his writing to ash. Then, she vanished the cluster of empty potion bottles in the desk drawer and glanced up at the Foe glass. Something flickered in the shadows of it.

“Bloody hell!” she swore and summoned her Black Infinity bag. She grabbed a pouch of galleons and shoved it inside. “I don’t know who you are,” she muttered to the shadow, “but Barty and I will not be Azkaban’s next hostages.” After the horror stories her friend had told her, she knew that running to the Dark Lord was her only chance to escape the Aurors. 

The image in the Foe glass clarified into the fierce gaze of the werewolf Professor. Her heart slammed in her chest. “Winky!” she demanded. She barely looked at the wretch when she popped into the room. “Where is Barty?”

“He is on his way here.” her tone was less deferential than it should have been, but she dismissed it in her haste. 

“Did you give him my message?” she snarled impatiently.

“He was not alone,” she answered. When Rita whirled around to skewer her with a glare, she belatedly added, “Mistress.”

 _Barty will deal with you soon enough,_ she thought viciously. _For now, we still have use for you._ “Dispatch our guest! Your master has no more need of him. And get rid of the body!” She barked her orders even as she eyed the growing number of faces in the Foe glass. _Barty!_ At the sight of Dumbledore’s face joining the others, she grabbed their emergency portkey and rushed out the door. 

* * *

When Hermione and Daphne were within sight of the hospital wing doors, she spotted the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall pouring over the map as the twins pointed frantically. She and Daphne rushed to join them. 

Professor McGonagall puzzled over the parchment, “But Albus, Barty Crouch is dead. Surely this map is in error.”

Hermione tapped her wand to back of the map and commanded, “Find Rita Skeeter!”

She knew it worked when her professor gasped. Suddenly, Professor McGonagall was resolved. “Whatever else is going on, Mr. Potter is in grave danger.” She looked up to the Headmaster.

“I quite agree,” he nodded and drew his wand. “We should move quickly.” He looked around at them, “You’ve done the right thing. We will go after Harry. Please go into the Hospital Wing and alert Professor Snape of a dangerous situation. Tell him to meet us at Moody’s office.”

With that instruction, they rushed off around the corner. Ron looked to Daphne, “You should do the talking to Snape. He’ll listen to you sooner than us.” 

She nodded and moved to lead their group into the Hospital Wing. Neville followed behind her, but Hermione deliberately lagged behind. With a meaningful glance to Ron and the twins, she stepped backward so that the door blocked her from view. “I don’t suppose either of you grabbed Harry’s cloak?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“No,” Ron told her. “I met the twins on the stairs.”

“Cloak?” Fred looked at her. “We didn’t go digging through Harry’s things. We still had the map with us.”

“We did, however,” George lifted a heavy looking bag, “grab plenty of things along with the map.”

She smiled grimly, “Alright. Most of the passages to Moody’s office converge on the other side of the Entrance Hall. Ron and I will take the passage near the tall knight. You two take Sir Callen’s pass. We’ll try to keep Skeeter from intercepting Harry.”

The twins nodded, “We’ve got one more thing that will help us. We’ll meet you in front of the DADA office.”

“See you there,” Ron told them as he took her arm and tugged her toward their chosen path. They moved together at a fast walk until they started hearing echoes up ahead of them. 

Hermione broke into a jog with Ron keeping pace. As they got closer to the main corridor, they heard shouts and stamping feet from another direction. “Booty Barty! Booty Barty! Have a dung bomb!” At the sound of Peeve’s nonsensical calls, she knew what the twin’s plan had been. They stepped out from behind the suit of armor at the end of the passage and stepped into stinking chaos. 

On one side of them, she could see the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall storming their direction. From the other side, a strange man kicked off a false leg while trying to flee from Remus and Padfoot behind him. Harry ran toward them with a clutch of wands in his hand. “Run!” he shouted. “Quick, while you can!” 

Hermione grabbed his arm and yanked them all into the passage and out of the line of fire. “Harry! Who is that man?” she kept her voice low despite the cacophony coming from the main passage.

“Not sure,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath in the relative safety of the shadowed shortcut. Blood trickled down his forehead and into his eyes. The side of his face was puffy with swelling. Despite that, he simply said, “Whoever he is, he’s not Mad Eye Moody.”

The commanding voice of the Headmaster boomed out, “Barty Crouch, Jr! Your master will not prevail! Give yourself up!” Spell fire splashed out from both sides, and it lit up the hall with noxious colors.

She cast a healing spell on Harry in case they had to run. Ron peered past the armor but stayed back. “Pity you didn’t grab his wand, mate. He’s casting some vicious spells.”

Harry leaned his head back against the stone in apparent relief as she cast again. “I did grab his wand…” he held up a clutch of wands in emphasis. “He had another one in his boot.”

Hermione cast a cautious glance back to the noisy hallway. “We need to get you to the Hospital Wing,” she whispered and started tugging on his arm. 

Before she could get them away, Peeves zoomed past them down the passage and gave their position away. The mad-man shouted, “There you are!” and burst into their sight. He cast wildly, apparently blinded after the brightness of the main corridor. She could see his dark mark plainly on his forearm.

“Ron!” she screamed as her friend was caught between the death eater and his target. 

“Expelliarmus!” Dumbledore shouted, and the man flew back. Somehow, he retained his wand.

Padfoot ran past the wizards to stand guard with the knight at the passage entry. Their enemy rambled madly, “I’ll never go back to Azkaban, Headmaster! You’ll taste death at my master’s wand!”

From their vantage point, she could see the man, bleeding and crazed, as he lay on the stone floor opposite them. He lifted his wand again, but he aimed past the knight and at them. Padfoot howled. Hermione froze in horror. 

He had no time to cast. Winky popped into the corridor and screamed, “Nos! Master Barty will hurt no one else! Winky will not allow it!”

He cackled madly, “You can’t stop me! You’re vermin! Nothing!” He focused his mad rage on her little friend. “Avada -”

“Accio Winky!” Hermione screamed.

“Expelliarmus!” Dumbledore shouted.

Winky flew into the passage as her attacker slammed into the far wall. Hermione braced and caught her friend, clutching her tightly. The headmaster carefully approached his fallen foe. The man stared up at him, dazed. “Barty,” he said with sadness in his voice.

From the direction of the DADA office, running feet sounded. Hermione moved, finally, to grab her friends and flee. Before she could twist and run for the safety of the Entrance Hall, Rita Skeeter ran out from the far passage. Approaching him from behind, she flung herself at the man, and they both disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the topic of portkeys, I've made a few assumptions to try and work within the cannon.  
> 1) Barty/Moody was the one to turn the cup into a portkey.  
> 2) A portkey that will transport someone on/off Hogwarts grounds can only be made while in the Headmaster's office. (As a security precaution, this makes sense to me. If anyone could make a portkey to/from Hogwarts, then the anti-apparition wards are nearly useless.)  
> 3) With two people to evacuate from Hogwarts (Rita and Himself), Barty took the opportunity, while making the cup portkey, to make an escape portkey.
> 
> Perhaps I should have written a scene in CH 21 from Barty's perspective of making the portkeys... I may go back and add that later.


	24. Chapter 24

The Hospital Wing was chaotic as Minerva escorted her students into the space. The Minister shouted at a tearful Hagrid who replied, “There weren’t no snakes in that maze, Minister! I placed every creature me-self. I don’t know what did that to poor Cedric.”

“Enough!” Poppy demanded silence. Her normally unflappable friend glared daggers at the Minister. “You are blocking me from my patients! Unless you are injured, get out of my ward!”

He turned around to see Minerva’s ragged entourage. Harry, bruised but no longer bleeding, limped along with Ron’s support. Hermione carried a dazed and fretful house elf like a toddler as she walked behind them. Behind them, Severus Snape levitated the unconscious and emaciated form of Mad Eye Moody.

Minister Fudge seemed inclined to capture Albus on his way out, but he was waylaid in the hall. _I recognize Augusta Longbottom’s voice. Who else is out there?_ She quickly decided to be grateful to the man that helped distract Minister Fudge and put it out of her mind. 

Harry looked around at the empty beds and then stared at the bloody stains on Poppy’s smock. She glanced down with a tired grimace and waved them away. “Where’s Cedric and Fleur?” the boy asked in a small voice. “Did they…?” He stopped himself from asking the rest of his question.

Minerva looked at him kindly, “They were transferred to St. Mungo’s. Miss Delacour will recover. Mr. Diggory is still being treated.” She could not bring herself to express the possibility that Cedric Diggory might die from his wounds. Remembering their friendliness, she also told him, “Mr. Krum is being interviewed by a member of the Auror core.” He nodded weakly and let Ron help him into the bed that Poppy indicated. Albus eyed the door warily as it swung open, but it only admitted Remus Lupin and his dog. 

“I don’t allow pets in my ward.” Poppy rebuked him with frown. 

Before anyone else could reply, Albus spoke up, “I will vouch for this particular dog’s good nature.” He moved toward the doors and sealed them closed. “I think we would do well with a bit of privacy for these discussions. Poppy, please see to your patients. We should be able to answer any questions you may have between us all.”

Her displeasure was evident in her pinched lips, but the mediwitch replied, “Yes Headmaster.” She stepped over to Moody first and began her diagnostics. Whatever she found made her frown in confusion. “Headmaster, this makes no sense. He has all the signs of being bedridden, but I saw him at breakfast this morning.”

The little house elf whimpered and began to pull away from Hermione. Her struggles drew Minerva’s attention. “Winky? Can you give us some answers? How long was Barty Crouch Jr in the castle? How long was Professor Moody being held in that trunk?”

She frantically shook her head and tears welled up in her eyes. “Winky does not know all. Winky is not remember some things.” She sobbed, “Winky is bad elf. Winky is bad friend!” she wailed and pulled at her ears. She made an attempt to pop away, but Albus cast a spell that prevented it.

Minerva flinched at the loud cries from the elf. _I pity her, but we need her calm if we’re to get answers._

Poppy seemed to share her opinion, and she moved quickly toward them. “Hold still, Miss Granger,” she instructed as she cast on the distraught creature. “Well, no wonder the poor thing is so overwhelmed.” She cast a sleeping spell on the elf, and they all sighed in relief at the quiet that followed. 

“Will she be ok, Madame Pomfrey?” Harry asked from his bed. Remus had conjured chairs for himself and Ron, but the dog had jumped up and was brazenly laying beside the injured boy. “Winky’s been really upset ever since Mr. Crouch died. We’ve been very worried about her.”

Her friend looked back toward her other patient and glared at the dog on the bed with him. Something convinced her to ignore the breach of etiquette for that moment. “She has had multiple confounding and compulsion spells cast on her. She must have received a strong shock to break through them, but they are still effecting her.” She looked past them all over at Albus. “I’ll have to remove them before I revive her, but then we should be able to get some answers.”

He nodded his approval, but Hermione spoke up worriedly, “It won’t hurt her, will it Madame Pomfrey? She’s had enough hurt for two lifetimes.” The girl patted her hand from the opposite side of the bed. 

“I won’t hurt her, Miss Granger,” she assured her. “House elves are resilient, and I think she’ll be much better once her mind is her own again.”

While Poppy worked her magic, Harry asked them, “Who was that in the hallway? You called him Barty Crouch Jr.? But I thought Barty Crouch’s son died.”

“As did I, Harry,” Albus answered kindly. “But I recognized him in the hall, and I believe my own eyes in this case.” He pressed his lips into a frown. “I spent so little time with Alastor this year that I could not say when he was overtaken by Young Crouch. But his status in that trunk would only make sense if Crouch had been impersonating him for some time.”

Remus nodded, “I smelled polyjuice on the wind. That’s why Padfoot and I went after him.”

The sound of that name send a cold chill down her spine. Minerva remembered James using it when he and Sirius were caught in mischief. _But Albus said his form had been a rat…_ She glowered at the bronze and black dog laying at Harry’s feet. “Padfoot… That’s an odd name to choose for your dog, Remus. Especially as his coloring is rather unlike a grim.” 

She had addressed her former student, but it was Albus that responded. With a measured look, he said, “I think we have a quite a bit to discuss, and the story that comes out may answer all of your questions.” 

Severus sneered at them from the potion cabinet, but he pulled out a vial and dosage cup. “Potter, how much do you weigh?” his hostile tone annoyed her, but the boy barely noticed.

“I’m not sure,” he shrugged and barely looked at his professor.

“Of course you aren’t,” Severus scowled and drew his wand. Remus tensed at the gesture, and she rested a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. After his quick spell, he skewered the boy with a look. “You are underweight, Mr. Potter.” He poured out a small dose of the potion in his hand. “Blood replenisher,” he said as he handed it to him. 

In two more paces, he was back at the cabinet and poured out other doses. She recognized his focused expression and sighed in relief that he had decided to set aside his bitterness for the good of a student. _Even if it’s only temporary._

He stalked back over to them, “Bone strengthener.” He set a dosage cup beside Harry with a clunk. “Nutrient Potion,” he put another cup down. “Nutrient Absorption Potion,” he settled the third dosage cup on the table. “You will need to take these three potions at this dose for seven days. After that, you will reduce the dose by one third every seven days until your fifteenth birthday. Eat five meals a day and limit sweets.”

Harry nodded quietly but looked skeptical. “Yes, Professor,” was all he said, but his tone sounded defeated. He took the potions without complaint and thanked Ron for the water he passed him after.

She puzzled and worried over that interaction until Albus and Poppy’s whispers caught her attention. “I understand, Poppy, but we need to understand the dangers if we are to protect our students. Wake her gently, but wake her quickly.”

The little house elf blinked awake and seemed disoriented. It was only when she locked eyes with Hermione, stationed at the head of her bed, that she became fully aware. “Oh! Oh, Missy Hermione! Winky is so very sorry! Winky has been bad friend!” Her eyes filled with tears, and she prepared to bawl again.

“Winky,” Albus said her name sharply. “If I am to protect my students, I must understand the dangers they are in. How did Barty Crouch Jr come to be in my school?”

His tone cut through her hysteria, but she looked at Hermione again in shame. “Winky has tried to keep Crouch family secrets. Winky does not know all but will tells what I knows. No more secrets.” 

“Thank you,” he told her simply. He conjured a chair and sat at her side. His warning glances to the rest of their audience ensured they stayed quiet. Poppy moved from her side to treat Moody while they talked. “Tell me how Barty Jr came to escape Azkaban?”

“Mistress was distraught,” she started tearfully. “Mistress had been ill and did not get to sees Master Barty when he’s went to prison. She cried for days and stopped eating. Master Crouch took her away one day, and he cames back with Master Barty.”

In shock, Minerva realized that Crouch must have taken his wife to the prison. _Could he really have traded his dying wife for his son? Or did she insist on trading her life for her son’s?_ As she worked through the implications, the house elf kept talking.

“Master Crouch gaves Master Barty to me to look afters, just as I did when hes was a baby. He’s used his magic to keeps him behaving, but Winky tried to make life happy like when Mistress lived.” Her voice caught in grief, and Hermione patted her hand to console her. She seemed to draw strength from the small gesture. “Master Barty hid and did as he was told, but Master Crouch never trusted.” She looked across the ward where Severus and Poppy continued to treat Moody. “I supposes that he was rights not to trust.” She fell silent and accepted comfort from the girl beside her.

Harry spoke up, “He said he’d been here all year. Gloated about hiding under your noses.” He scratched the dog’s ears. “He wanted to hear all about the resurrection ritual, and wasn’t too happy when I told him I escaped before it was over.”

“Is that how you got those bruises on your face?” Remus asked. He glowered darkly when Harry only shrugged. 

“Winky,” Albus took back control of their conversation. “When did you realize that Barty was here at Hogwarts?”

“Its was the night Master Crouch died,” she squeaked. “Moody Professor called me to help finds Master Crouch. Is hard to remember, but… he used magics on me?” She curled into herself, and Minerva felt a twinge of pity for her. “Dids… Dids Master Barty kills his father?”

“Given what we know,” Albus said kindly. “It seems likely.” 

She buried her face into Hermione’s side, but her words were still audible. “I’s bad elf… I’s raised him just as if he was mine. And he’s hurts so many…”

“Oh, Winky!” Hermione told her. “It’s not your fault! He and his father made their decisions. They gave you no choice in the matter.”

“But I’s had choice, Missy Hermoine,” she whimpered and pulled back. “I’s not bound to Crouch family anymore. Is didn’t tell yous about Master Barty once I knew…” She pulled on her ears in distress. “Is didn’t know whats to do… so Is did nothings…”

“That’s not entirely true,” Albus interrupted her kindly. “When faced with a choice between your former master and the friends you’ve made at Hogwarts, you chose your friends. While I and the staff may wish you had acted sooner, you did act.”

He looked at the bed behind them, “I think that Alastor will be ready to tell us what he knows soon. As we have a long night of revelations ahead of us, shall we take a break? Harry, I would like to have you place your memory of the maze and subsequent events in my pensieve. We could adjourn to my office and allow Poppy to treat her patients without our disruptions.”

Harry nodded and made to rise from the bed. “Can Remus and Pads come with us?” He asked the question, but Minerva knew Remus well enough to know it would take far more than a civil “no” to keep him from the boy’s side. She resolved to mimic him. It was high time James’s son knew the devotion of a god mother.

* * *

Daphne stood quietly with her father, but her heart longed to be in the hospital wing with her friends. “I’m telling you Cyrus, this disaster is going to ruin our international reputation. Such lawlessness can not and will not be allowed!” Minister Fudge flushed red and spittle clung to his bottom lip. Despite his impassioned speech, she could tell that he was scared.

“I agree that blatant disregard for our laws must be addressed, but the right place to do that is in the Wizengamot,” her father spoke calmly and firmly. Only someone that knew him well would recognize the anger he kept controlled.

“Cornelius,” Neville’s gran spoke up. “Surely you want the transparency of a proper investigation? After all, two of our international guests were harmed, and one of our own children is barely clinging to life. Any hint of a cover up will only harm our international reputation further.”

“Very well,” he conceded gracelessly. “I’ll agree to call an emergency session of the Wizengamot to investigate the irregularities around the tournament. But, Cyrus, you must hold any new revision of your compendium until the investigation is complete.”

Her eyes widened, and she started to protest. Her father forestalled her, “We will hold the final revision until the Wizengamot investigation is complete. However, we must be allowed to enter a revision detailing the known and undisputed events. Anything less would make it seem as though the Ministry has something to hide.”

“A piece on the structure of the investigation would improve its credibility,” she spoke quietly but confidently. “The Wizengamot would come through as transparent and working in the best interest of the people.” When her father smiled at her proudly, it almost made up for her separation from her friends.

* * *

When the headmaster had led Harry and the others from the Hospital Wing, Hermione sat next to Winky and rocked her gently as she cried. Across the ward, Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape spoke quietly over Professor Moody’s bed. _The real Professor Moody…_ She tensed in shock suddenly. _We were taught all year by a Death Eater!_

Winky pulled out of her embrace. “Missy Hermione?” her eyes were wet as she looked up at her. “Is has no rights to ask, but…” Her thin lips trembled as she drew in a shaky breath. “Is has no rights to ask for your forgiveness… Is know you cannot trusts me… but Is so very sorry…”

“Oh Winky!” she dragged her back into another hug. “Of course I forgive you! You were caught between your family and your friends! And you were confounded besides that!” A part of her wanted to be back in that hallway so that she could curse Barty Crouch Jr. for all that he had done. 

“Is don’t deserve it Missy Hermione,” she insisted even as she clung tightly to her. “The Crouches wasn’t my family no more. The Headmaster gaves me a place to be and work and find new family, but Is didn’t tell hims the truths. Is was wrong.”

“Yes, you were wrong in your approach,” she acknowledged gently, reminding herself of her own mother. “But making the wrong decision doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be forgiven. You deserve forgiveness because you’re sorry for what you did. You deserve a chance to learn from this and make better decisions in the future. And I believe that you will because I believe in you.”

Winky sniffed loudly and tucked herself even further into the hug. Even as she continued to console her, Hermione resolved to do more for her. _I bear some responsibility because I guessed at the cause of her decline rather than talking to her._ For the moment, she only held her and waited for Harry to come back.

* * *

The pensieve surface rippled as it had the last time he saw it. This time, however, it was his memory that drifted inside it. “Very good, Harry,” the Headmaster smiled at him proudly, but he was too numb from the evening’s events to feel a glow of pleasure.

He glanced down at Sirius, still in his dog form. “I don’t have to go in with you?” he hoped they would say know. He had no interest in reliving the nightmare. 

“You do not,” the Headmaster assured him. He cut a side glance to Professor McGonagall. “Minerva, would you mind making sure that all our spectators have left? It’s coming up close to curfew, and I would hate for us to end term with a great deal of detentions.”

To his surprise, his head of house drew herself up to her full height and sent Headmaster Dumbledore a severe look she usually reserved for the twins. “I mind quite a bit, actually. In addition to being a member of my house, Harry is my godson’s child.” She looked over him sadly. “I’ve held to my role as your head of house because you did not know me, but I understand that was a mistake. I am sorry.”

Confused, he knelt beside Padfoot and rested his head against his warm furry shoulder. _I know you want to see what happened,_ he thought at his godfather, _but I don’t want to her think I’m angry at her… that I don’t accept her apology._ He smiled at the lick to his forehead.

Suddenly, he was being hugged. He heard the gasp behind him, but he ignored it in favor of the reassuring embrace. “Harry! You need to get away from him!” Professor McGonagall cried out it horror.

The headmaster used his hand to gently push her wand down to her side. “Minerva, do you remember what I told you about James and Lily’s betrayer?” Harry frowned in confusion, but his professor nodded numbly. 

“You said that he took the form of a rat,” she whispered. Suddenly her eyes widened in realization, “Peter! How could he?” She slipped her wand away with a shaky hand. “Is that why you killed him?”

Sirius held him tighter, “It’s why I tried…” 

Before he could sink into his regrets, Remus told spoke up. “Peter got away, framing Sirius in the process. He hid out in his animagus form and got adopted as a pet rat. He was living well enough until Sirius got hold of a Daily Prophet with him in a photo.”

“The Weasley rat,” she murmured. When she looked to them for confirmation, Harry, Sirius and Remus all nodded. She shuddered visibly, but he was unsure if it was horror or revulsion. When she went quiet for a moment, they all waited impatiently for her verdict. 

The headmaster looked back to the waiting pensieve. “Minerva, I’m sure you still have a number of questions, but there may be information in those memories that could help save Mr. Diggory. We should view them quickly while the information might still help us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split the final chapter in two. I will post chapter 25 as soon as I have reviewed it rather than waiting until Saturday.


	25. Chapter 25

Three days after the task, Amos stood outside his precious son’s room at St. Mungos. His boy was in surgery with an international collection Healers that hoped to save his leg and improve his chances of his survival. “Xeno, I know that your readership is… unorthodox,” he chose his words carefully to keep from offending his visitor. “But we’ve been neighbors for years. After the mess The Prophet has made covering the Tournament, and with the rumors of power struggles between the founding houses…” He sighed deeply, “I just don’t trust anyone there to do my boy justice.”

“Amos,” he refused to meet his eyes. “I’m not sure that I’m the right person for this. I’m flattered that you trust me, but I don’t generally write pieces this… conventional.” He finally looked at him directly, “my Pandora would have done well at this, but I don’t think that I will.”

He took heart that his old friend was not refusing to publish their story, only write it. He smiled grimly, “Cedric has spoken highly of an intern over at Arbour Green. If she is willing to guest write it, would you be willing to print it?”

Xeno nodded, “I understand there’s some controversy over printing the Tournament Compendium. If she can find a way to guest write for my paper without dragging me into that, I will gladly accept her work.”

“Thank you, Xeno,” he let out his breath in relief. “I’ll talk to Miss Clearwater about an interview and have her contact you.” 

“Very well,” his neighbor nodded. “Now, the reason I actually stopped by was to bring you and Cedric a few gifts and well wishes from the neighborhood.” He smiled warmly and held up an expandable bag. “Molly couldn’t come today. She is consulting with someone on a project, but she sent me with Cedric’s favorite cookies, plenty of sandwiches for you, and quite a bit of food for the staff.”

* * *

Silently, Viktor followed Daphne through unfamiliar halls of Hogwarts. Ahead of them, a clutch of boys Harry’s age glowered at his companion as they talked. The blond one sneered, “Our real champion gets mortally wounded by a snake? With a Parselmouth as the only witness? It’s obvious Potter cheated! Father thinks he made up the whole conspiracy just to cover it up!”

The hulking boys beside him nodded dumbly, but Viktor barely noticed. Rage burned within him as his friends were maligned. His wand leaped into his hand, and he snarled. Only Daphne’s steely grip on his wrist kept him from defending his friend’s honor.

“Honestly, Draco,” she called past him derisively. “Are you still incapable of forming your own opinions? You could at least parrot your mother for once. It would be a nice change for those of us in earshot.”

Her words snapped him back to reality. _Temper!_ He cursed himself for nearly losing control. _You are not a boy any longer. A man must not attack petty children._ He smiled at Daphne in gratitude. “I had forgotten how long some children take to grow up. With spoiled ones, it seems they never will.” He offered her his elbow so that she could steer him away without seeming to drag him, and they gladly tuned out the droning voices behind them.

Soon, they stood before a nondescript classroom door. He looked quizzically at Daphne as she cast a string of spells. He recognized a few as counters to standard privacy charms, but the structure was unorthodox. “Did you create spell chain specifically for this room?” he asked as she opened the door.

She nodded, “Technically this is Hermione’s study room, but we all spend a lot time here since it’s private.” 

He entered to find a large space with a cozy seating arrangement, a large work table with book shelves, and a clear space where a red haired boy cast spells at Harry as he defended. Despite a two day stay in the Hospital Wing, his fellow champion was nimble and effective on the dueling floor. As he stepped further into the room, Daphne closed the door and recast the privacy spells. 

“Viktor?” Hermione greeted him from a shadowed corner. She smiled warmly, “I’m very glad to see you. We’ve all been quite worried about you.”

He dropped his gaze guiltily, “I do not think I deserve worry. I was not injured.” He tried to remember his mother’s comforting words, but, faced with his Hogwarts friends, he could only remember the violation of foreign hostility and a voice telling him to maim and torture.

Hermione looked meaningfully at Harry, “You aren’t the only one to tell me that, but I will decide how and why to worry.”

Somehow, her firmness relieved his need to dismiss his experience. “As I have come to expect from you,” he told her as a layer of lingering tension relaxed inside him. He found even more solace in her gentle hug. _I may be angry with myself for my failure, but my friends are not angry with me._ The gentle acceptance helped. It would take time for forgive himself for not being the one to save his friends, but, for the first time since the Task, he understood that he could and would.

He pulled away feeling lighter than he had in days. With renewed energy, he turned to her work table and started laying out his mother’s arithmancy. The duel behind them finished, and he quietly began explaining his mother’s work. “Arithmancy calculates the potential paths of our future. Mother, like most arithmancy masters, will choose one event as the start.” He pointed at a small rune, “Here is the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament for this year. She could have gone back further, perhaps to the decision to restart it or even the decision to suspend it.” He shrugged with a half smile, “That would have been many parchments of calculation.”

Harry pointed out one of the symbols, “Do you have to know runes in order to understand all this?”

Daphne laughed and looped an arm around his waist in a half hug. Her easy affection with her false boyfriend surprised him, but Hermione did not seem bothered. “It may be possible to do this without them, but I think it would be very difficult. The runes are such an integral part of the way we learn to calculate in Arithmancy that you find tables of key ones in all the text books.” 

Hermione frowned fiercely at him, and despite his years of additional magical training, he shifted his feet nervously. “Viktor, how long have you had this?”

“This is most updated version,” he murmured. “I first saw it the week before task.” His guilt welled up again, but he stood firm and awaited judgement.

“He showed it to me in the library on Thursday, just before curfew,” Daphne spoke up and drew her girlfriend’s ire. “I didn’t want to distract you with something so vague while you and Harry were preparing.”

“That wasn’t your decision, Daphne!” she insisted, her voice tight with anger. “You should have told me. Forewarning might have changed how we prepared!”

“How?” Harry sounded confused and leaned ever closer to parchment as though proximity would help him. “I don’t understand what I’m looking at.” The red haired boy, _Ron, I think?,_ had been backing away from the budding argument but stepped closer at that question. 

Hermione’s glare promised a further conversation with her girlfriend, but, to his relief, she let him explain. “Here is fourth task,” Viktor quietly pointed. “All calculations up to this point resolved, but Mother was unable to resolve beyond.” He tapped at the runic combination shown in this version. “Hagalaz and Isa combine here to account for catastrophe, betrayal and deceit.” The path withered within another step. He tapped his wand and the rune changed. “Perthro Merkstave combined with Isa also failed to resolve.”

He tapped his wand to show every calculation his mother had run at that point in her work. Some runes would extend into a short prediction path before failing, but most failed at that point. “There!” Hermione stopped him. “Go back two, please.”

He did as she asked and frowned at the one that caught her eye. “Alright,” Ron glared at the complex calculation. “That one’s even more unreadable than the others.”

“How does Gebo and Gebo Merkstave both resolve in death?” she tapped at the rune in question. “That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“What does that mean?” Harry squinted at the parchment.

Daphne, still at his side, explained, “They both imply generosity, but the Merkstave form suggests self sacrificial generosity.” She sent her girlfriend a tentative look, “I agree that it’s odd. This point in the calculation is actually the end of the maze, so it’s a little beyond the other runes we looked at…”

“Oh,” his young friend sighed in understanding. “It make sense, I guess…” He looked around the table at them all. “Cedric and I argued, at the very last step of the maze… I told him he should get the victory, but he thought I should. Given what happened after, I guess this means that, if only one of us had gone, that person would have died.”

Hermione paled at this pronouncement but nodded decisively. “I think it’s time you tell us everything.” She waved toward their cozy seating arrangement. With equal parts dread and curiosity, Viktor followed his young friends.

* * *

His chamber door slammed behind him as Albus rushed through to change from his Wizengamot robes. _I’ve never missed a leaving feast before, and I’ve no intention of doing so today!_ He quickly changed into a brightly colored set of robes and stepped before the mirror to adjust them. However, his thoughts were not on routine matters.

 _Cornelius is determined to pretend that nothing has changed, but all the whispers I hear these days suggest that Voldemort’s ritual was successful. His lies and brush offs have not satisfied the ICW, and they will not satisfy the investigatory commission._ While the emergency session of the Wizengamot had caught him by surprise, he had been able to ensure that a few allies sat on the resulting committee. 

_I wish Remus could have stayed with my cousins, but I understand his concerns._ Albus made note to contact someone to add wards to their farm. _Although, there were wards around_ _Hallow House_ _, but it did not prevent the attacks that destroyed it._ His many scattered thoughts and worries made his head ache. He cast a tempus and sighed in relief. He had an hour before the feast would begin.

Grateful, he sat in the chair by the window. In the quiet, he envisioned a chamber of expandable trunks. Some rested in the shadows of the chamber, and a select few glowed in the rays of sunshine from the imaginary window. He ignored the ones wrapped in rusty chains in the far corner.

The Wizengamot trunk opened, and Albus envisioned placing the emergency session inside. Younger members of the chamber, jockeying for positions of power, went with it. Next, he placed the blindness and corruption of Fudge’s ministry inside. His own lack of a successor brushed the edges of the trunk opening, but he refused to allow it out. That lid closed with a satisfying click.

Far back and behind it, a solid black trunk rested. He imagined unlocking the phoenix shaped latch, but he paused before he opened it. Within his worries and thoughts, he had the memories from Harry’s time in the maze and graveyard. He, also, chewed over the discussion he had with Molly about the ritual. _I hated to disappoint her with the topic of our meeting, but I needed Edward’s journals._ Inside the trunk, he placed the whispers and rumors that had kept him up the night before. Next, he pictured the warded drawer in his office with its stabbed diary and stained wooden spoon.

He moved to close the trunk again when a pop from next to his chair disturbed him. He blinked away his interrupted mental exercise and found Dobby and a worried looking Winky standing before him. “We be sorry to bother you, Headmastery Mugwump,” Dobby announced, “but Winky found something worrisome during her work.”

He looked past his little assistant to the remorseful elf beside him, “Hello Winky. Where have you been working these past few days?” She had been determined to make up for her perceived failures so Albus had let the Hogwarts Head Elf set her to whatever work he saw fit.

“Winky’s been working in the Room of Lost Things,” she shuffled nervously. “Winky borrowed one of Missy Hermione’s dark detectors to help her work.” She offered him a small bauble that he recognized from the O.W.L. project samples that Minerva had brought him. It was covered in tiny rune carvings.

He smiled kindly at her, “Yes, I can see how that would be helpful for you when working alone.” He examined them both and was alarmed by Dobby’s apparent nervousness. “Would you show me what you found in this Room of Lost Things?”

She snapped her fingers, and a worn trunk appeared before them. It seethed with evil, and Albus barely restrained a shudder of revulsion. When she went to open it, he stopped her. “I think a few precautions might be in order,” he waved his wand at the far wall of his bedchamber, and it opened into an archway. His office could be seen beyond it.

Once inside, he sent a Patronus to Minerva to alert her to the possibility that he would be late to the feast. Then, he coaxed Fawkes from his perch as additional protection. He indicated that Winky should take the trunk inside his small ritual circle, and he activated the runes around her. 

After that, he nodded to her in permission. She opened the trunk and levitated out a small black effigy. He might have called it a doll if not for the sluggish malevolence oozing from it. The large and ornate hat pin that stabbed through its head and body suggested a violent and sordid tale.

“That’s unpleasant,” he affirmed, “but it should be easily destroyed. You did not touch it?” To his relief, she shook her head. “Then we should be safe enough in dispatching the thing. What else did you find?”

Next, a shadowed mirror floated out of the trunk. When she turned it toward him, a face appeared, silently screaming. “Stop!” he ordered her. “Rest that vile thing face down in the circle.” She did as he commanded, and he sighed in relief. “We will have to be very careful with that until we can free the ghost captured within. It is a vile thing to disturb the dead, and who ever created that ghost glass has much to answer for.”

“Its has A. M. carves on the back,” Dobby offered from his side. “Ands the House Malfoy crest…”

He pinched his lips between his teeth at this unhappy news. “Abraxus was never the sort to let people rest. I wonder what poor soul got caught in his trap…” He shook away those questions for the moment. “What else did you find Winky?”

In response, a tarnished and sad looking tiara drifted up from the case. At first, Albus detected none of the vile attributes of the other two objects, but closer study taught him otherwise. He used the magic of the ritual circle to draw it closer and felt a familiar taint within it. It clattered to the stone floor when he released it in shock. 

“Winky!” he called sharply. “Come out of there quickly!” He could not know if the thing could or would possess someone like the diary had done, but he was not willing to risk it. 

As soon as she appeared beside him, he reset and strengthened the protections around the circle. He worked as quickly as he could to ensure that this vile thing would pose no risks to his students. When he finished, he noticed the two wide eyed house elves watching him intently.

“You’ve done very well,” he assured them. “Winky, you have done a great service to this school and protected our students from three truly horrid items. Thank you.” He stooped to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you both very much,” as he said this, he focused on radiating grateful magic so that they would know his sincerity.

* * *

The last day at Hogwarts was always chaotic. Harry had tried to pack his trunk the night before, but they had stayed so late in Hermione’s study room that they nearly missed curfew. As he scurried around frantically, he found he had no regrets about spending every possible moment with his friends before going back to the Dursley’s. 

He pulled open the bottom drawer of his bedside table and stared at the three wands inside. _I need to get Cedric’s back to him. I just hope he’ll recover and actually need it._ He gently set the ash wood wand on top of the stand. He frowned at the other two wands still in the drawer.

“Harry,” Neville broke into his thoughts, and he startled. “What are you glaring at over there?”

“Something I picked up the night of the third task… I don’t want to take it to my aunt and uncle’s, but I don’t want anyone else getting hold of it either.” He kept his answer vague but honest. It was a skill he started learning from Daphne earlier in the year. 

His friend looked at him like he was making things difficult. “Harry, you know more of the secret places in Hogwarts than anyone but the house elves. Just find someplace to stash it.” 

He smiled slightly at that reminder. From the hallway, the prefect shouted, “One hour until we leave for the station. Hurry your packing and make your way to the Entrance Hall!”

Neville grinned at him. “I’m going to head down so that I can say goodbye to Professor Sprout before we leave.” With a thunk and a clatter, he slammed his trunk lid and levitated it before him. “See you downstairs, Harry!” 

In the quiet that he left behind, his words rang in his ears. _More secret places than anyone but the House Elves…_ He smiled in relief as he called out, “Winky?” When she popped into the space before him, he held out his arms for a hug. To his delight, she seemed to be doing better in the few days since the task. 

“Oh! Mister Harry,” she squeaked happily as she hugged him. “Is so glad you made times to say good bye to Winky.” He felt a twinge of guilt at knowing that he had not thought of that. “Missy Hermione says I cans visit her on mys days off this summer! Is never thought to be glad to has a day without my work!”

He smiled, “If you have time, you could come visit me too?” He frowned in thought, “But not around my muggle relatives. They aren’t as nice about things as Hermione’s parents.”

She nodded eagerly, “Ohs Yes! Winkys will visit yous, and Dobbys might too! He gets days off from Headmastery Mugwump work.”

“That would be great,” he felt slightly worried about the potential for chaos, but he was too eager for connections to his real life to deter her. “Winky, do you know of a good place to hide some things? I don’t like having them, but I don’t want anyone else getting them either.”

He lifted out the two wands that still rested in the drawer. He held out the Aspen wand, “I took this from Barty Crouch on the night of the third task. I don’t know what do to with it.”

She cocked her head sideways, “Is don’t know who’s wand that is, Mister Harry. Is not Master Barty’s though. His wand was nearly black from the wood.”

“Maybe it was Moody’s wand…” he murmured and set it aside with Cedric’s. “Alright, this one,” he carefully lifted the yew wand from the drawer. To his horror, he felt it resonate with him in a similar way as his own wand. He quickly set it on the bed away from him. “This one… it’s done some terrible things. I need you to hide it for me, please, and don’t tell anyone about it.”

She nodded solemnly, “Winkys will hide it.” She pressed her hand to the center of his chest. “Winkys swears to hide terrible wand and tell no ones that you askeds me to hide it.” Magic warmed him as she made her vow.

“Thanks, Winky,” he grinned with the happy relief of having that weapon out of his sight. He hugged her tightly one last time. 

“Forty minutes!” The prefect shouted from outside.

Harry jumped and looked in dismay at his messy belongings. Winky shook her head at him. With a snap of her fingers, his clothes were folded inside his trunk, and the lid closed with a click. “Yous needs to head down, Mister Harry. Winkys will see you soons as Is can.” He nodded quickly and rushed out the door with his trunk following behind him.

On his way out of the Common Room, Professor McGonagall stepped from her office and intercepted him. “Mr. Potter,” she paused. “Harry, would you please step into my office for a moment?” Bewildered, he followed her through the door. Ever since the third task, she had been gentler in her dealings with him. The change confused him. 

Inside her office, the Headmaster waited with a soft smile. Something about his expression put Harry on guard. _Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to like how this conversation goes._ In an attempt to avoid the pending conversation, he held out two wands. “Headmaster, I’m so glad to see you. I still have these two wands from the other night,” he rushed his words as he handed over his burdens. “I know one belongs to Cedric, but I took the other off Barty Jr. Winky says it wasn’t his… Could it be Professor Moody’s?”

The headmaster accepted the two wands with a gracious smile. “Aspen wood? I believe you are correct. It’s a determined wand for a determined owner. I’ll be sure to get it back to him.”

He smiled tightly and rocked back onto his heels. Before he could make an excuse and try to leave, the Headmaster continued, “Minerva and I wanted to speak to you about precautions for your holiday.” He looked over Harry’s shoulder where, instinct told him, his Head of House was towering behind him.

“Don’t assume my approval on this Albus. If the risks are so high, he should just stay at Hogwarts,” she said sharply. The budding conflict made him feel like an unwilling intruder. “He would not be the first to stay over summer holidays due to an untenable home situation.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible in this case,” the Headmaster addressed him rather than than the professor. Harry was glad that he did not allow himself to hope for a Dursley reprieve. “As I have reason to believe that Voldemort’s resurrection ritual was successful, I must insist that you stay close to home this summer. I realize that is not ideal for any boy, but it is for your own safety.” He gave him a kindly smile. “Perhaps you can get a head start on preparing for your OWLs.”

He wanted to curl in on himself or spit in resentment, instead, he only said, “My uncle won’t allow it. He locks up my school things as soon as I get home.” He waited for the inevitable dismissal of his words.

“Well,” Professor McGonagall said from behind him. “That won’t happen this time.” She rested a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her. “I may not be able to protect you from Him, but I can certainly give your relatives some clear direction on how this summer is to go.” 

He gave her a weak smile, “Thanks Professor. That might help.” After a few more warnings, he was sent out the door. He nearly ran the rest of the way to the Entrance Hall and was grateful that Hermione and Daphne had saved him a spot in their carriage. He had barely caught his breath by the time the Hogwarts Express was in sight.

It took a few minutes for Harry to find a completely empty compartment, but he and his friends would need the space. He stepped in first and levitated his and Daphne’s trunks up into the storage rack. “Thank you,” she said simply as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

He flushed slightly and pushed down any feelings that her easy affection tried to raise. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled and quickly moved forward to take a seat. Behind them, Hermione, Ron and Tracey entered with their trunks. It took a few minutes for them all to get settled. Daphne sat between him and Hermione, and Harry tried not to smirk at the way Tracey subtly brushed Ron’s hand as they sat together. 

“Well,” Hermione pulled out a large sheet of paper, “My mum sent over a listing of the movies that will showing over holiday. I thought we could talk about it more easily now than we could by owl.”

Tracey nodded excitedly which guaranteed Ron’s compliance. “Sounds lovely, Hermione,” she said. “Was there anything that sounded particularly good?”

She grinned happily, “There are a few films that might be enjoyable. Hugh Grant has two movies out, but they seem a little more the dramatic sorts… I’m not sure how well that would show our magical friends what we mean by cinematic. There’s a James Bond movie, but I’ve never cared for them.”

To Harry’s surprise, he recognized that. “My uncle loves those movies…” He nearly left it at that, but Uncle Vernon always postured and demanded more after watching them on the telly. “I don’t think I want to watch a new one.” In his head, he resentfully thought of the warning he had gotten from the Headmaster that morning. “The Headmaster doesn’t think I should leave the Dursley’s at all while I’m there, so this may be my only day out.” The implication that he would sneaking out seemed to pass them all by.

Instead, his friends were horrified and indignant on his behalf. Somehow it made the unfairness of his situation more palatable. “Well,” Hermione replied. “My parents and I have decided to skip our usual trip this year. We need to set up a schedule for you to call me every other day, just like we agreed.” At her words, he remembered his relief all those months ago at her steadfast friendship. He nodded in agreement, and they all began to plan for ways to communicate over the holidays.

Hours later, Harry accepted one final hug from Hermione on the muggle side of the platform. He vaguely recognized her parents moving their way as quickly as they could in the press of people. He waved at the couple half-heartedly as she walked their way.

For some reason, crossing the barrier seemed to have eliminated his optimism about the next two months. Loneliness settled onto him, and his shoulders drooped under the imagined strain. He dragged his trunk through the train station until he spied his uncle’s florid face. He heaved a sigh and trudged over to him.

“It’s about time, boy!” he grunted. “I’ve got better things to do than stand around waiting on you to get back from your freaks.” The man failed to notice the odd glances they got from the people moving past them. 

_Best for me that he doesn’t notice,_ he thought. _He’ll just blame me if he sees it._ “Hello, Uncle Vernon. Had a nice year?” he asked tonelessly.

“It was nice enough until you had to come back, boy,” he snarled. “Now, get that garbage moving. I’m tired of waiting on you.”

 _Well, you’ll be grand company stuck in the car for an hour,_ he thought sarcastically. As he followed his lumbering uncle out of the station, he sighed and mumbled under his breath, “So good to see you Harry. Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends part 2. I am working on part 3 and prepping for NaNoWriMo. Between that, my mother's health issues, and work - I can't set a concrete start date for Part 3. I will begin posting it as soon as the first draft is complete, but I am having to restore a few things from memory that I lost when switching software. Additional updates on part 3 posting schedule will be on the series page.  
> Until next time, be well.


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